A Ledger Squared In Blood
by Scribes and Scrolls
Summary: This is the sequel to The Debt. Read that story first or this will make little sense. Emma prepares to head home to Storybrooke filled with questions, anger and pain about Regina's actions, as she figures out what to do next. Swan Queen again ... eventually.
1. Chapter 1

**A LEDGER SQUARED IN BLOOD**  
**By Scribes and Scrolls**

CHAPTER ONE: THE TRUCE

Emma Swan had been through every cupboard in Regina's bolt-hole cottage and had been unable to come up with anything remotely resembling alcohol. _You'd think the freaking queen of apple cider would have a hidden stash somewhere_. She growled, then paused in frustration when she felt the tears threaten anew.

_Seriously_? She could not stop crying. It was pathetic.

So _big deal_ - she'd tried to tell herself - she'd had yet another one-night stand with another woman who had treated her exactly as she had predicted days ago.

Besides, she might have known the mayor six months but the _woman_, well she'd only really known her for a week. Emma's eyes lost focus.

Without all the pretence and the constant bad mood and jibes, Regina Mills was a very different woman to the uptight mayor Emma had locked horns with in Storybrooke.

Vulnerable, layered, intelligent, fascinating, funny even. That had been surprising. Her wry quips, when stripped of meanness, were enormously entertaining. More than once she had reduced the blonde to wheezes of laughter. And then she'd simply stood back with only the tiniest of curls at the corner of her mouth betraying how pleased she was with Emma's reaction.

She was thoughtful, too. Emma loved the breakfasts in bed, especially when served up by scantily-clad Regina. There was the way she always sprinkled cinnamon on her porridge without her having to ask. And her neatly repaired jacket.

Anguish rocked the blonde again as she remembered what had come with the jacket. _Crap_. She grimaced as her eyes teared up. _God!_ She was like a girl with her first broken heart.

Who was she kidding? She _WAS _a girl with her first broken heart. Cora had not been lying. And the moment she'd said it, sneered it, to be more accurate, Emma had felt the truth of her words. She _did _love Regina Mills.

A tear headed mournfully down her cheek and she crushed it angrily with the heel of her hand. _Oh for God's sake._ She rolled her eyes. _Enough! I am a bad-ass bounty hunter. I do not do ice cream in bed and sappy songs while weeping over crushes gone bad._

She paused. _Ice cream_. She gave a wistful sigh before the hunt for booze resumed in earnest.

An hour later, all she had concluded was Regina had bolted with very few supplies, even fewer clothes although, to her complete astonishment, those tall dominatrix boots were now missing. A part of Emma would have liked to have watched the incredible architectural feat of her getting those thigh-high beauties on. In the dark. Without waking Emma.

Another part of her, slightly lower down, would have just liked to watch, agog, without engaging the science part of her brain at all.

Emma growled at them both.

Meanwhile she had also discovered that Regina's father's beloved gardening shoes remained where they were. Her hand traced the plain brown, worn leather - why had she left these? Either she'd forgotten them, which was unlikely as Regina never missed anything, or no longer felt sentimentally attached to them. Or ... where she was going she couldn't take them.

And yet she _could _take her Worship Me Like The Evil Bitch I Am boots? What had she been packing for? A strip joint?

The satchel of photos of Henry were missing so Regina wasn't _entirely _heartless, Emma decided, flopping on the bed. Her nostrils flared. _Jesus _- she could still smell _her_. Everywhere. _All _of her - over the sheets and the pillows and ... Emma's eyes filled with tears again.

_Shit. _She really needed some hard liquor. _This remembering business sucks and blows._

. . . . . . .

Emma wondered how long was left before the hatch would unlock. Regina had been very strict with not using magic. Cora, however, had been flinging the stuff around the place like confetti at a wedding. As she lay on the bed, the sheriff worked on a string of text messages to Mary Margaret.

She tapped out that she was coming home as soon as the lock opened, but she didn't know how long that would be. She figured some magic expert in Storybrooke would have to know what effect the various spells she'd encountered would have on the time remaining on the lock. So she was painstakingly listing every spell she had seen, and described in detail the burning one she had no name for. When she was done, she saved off the texts, ready to send when she got to the hatch. She peered at the corner of the phone. Barely any battery juice left. _She had to get out of here soon._ For _so _many reasons.

Emma put the phone down and sighed, staring at the ceiling. She was tired. Emotional. Fed up with her brain. And the endless questions.

She wondered yet again, as she had hundreds of times already, where Regina was now. Was she safe? Had Cora said something to her that Emma hadn't heard that would explain everything? Had she been kidnapped? Hope surged before Emma remembered the note. And the jacket. Both had Regina's unmistakeable fingerprints all over them.

She remembered Regina's fingerprints. And her fingertips. Emma especially remembered how her fingers clenched against her and she rocked and moaned and gasped her name as Emma moved inside her. The sighs and sobs, her skin so soft. She vividly recalled what Regina Mills tasted like and the exquisite burning pleas in brown eyes when her tongue had loved her.

The smell of her hair - Emma had buried her nose into it and finally discovered why she smelt like apples_. _Her shampoo_._ Regina had laughed when she told her the mystery had been eluding her for months.

"You might have just asked, dear," the brunette had said with a seductive drawl and resumed nuzzling Emma's neck, nipping it cheekily.

"Yeah right, like you'd have answered when I said, 'So tell me Madame Mayor, I have been wondering why you always smell like apples?'," Emma huffed.

Regina's mouth had curved into a wide smile against her neck. "I would have concluded you were thinking far too much about me for a mere underling."

"And you would have been right," Emma retorted. "I was. Although I had presumed it was my blind hatred of you, not blinding lust that was driving my line of inquiry."

"Mmm," Regina had sighed, making that sweet contented sound the blonde now knew equated to happiness. Until their week together, Emma didn't realise she was even capable of that particular emotion.

"I always knew you wanted me," the mayor teased, eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Liar," Emma retorted, poking her in the ribs. "And 'sides, it was you who wanted _me_. Tell me you didn't want to take me under the apple tree when I chainsawed the branch off. I could see the fire in your eyes. You glared at me with such ... _hell… _you wanted me _so bad_!"

"Revisionist history, my dear," Regina declared. "I wanted payback, it's true, but I doubt you would have found much pleasure in it had I taken you under the tree in the mood I was in. Although, personally, _I _would have found it _delicious_. You, on the other hand, wouldn't have been able to walk straight for a week."

Emma's breath caught, imagining that little scenario. _Holy_... "Now I kinda wished you'd tried," she whispered reverently.

"And ruined my best work dress? Certainly not. You'd already annoyed me enough for one day."

"Annoyed?" Emma toyed. "Are you sure that's all you were feeling?" Her fingers began to trace Regina's ribs, sliding over towards her breast.

Regina's lips twitched. "Definitely annoyed." She dropped a kiss on Emma's head. She looked mischievously down at the blonde and her lips quirked. "Although that was the first time I wondered what you tasted like. Pure curiosity, of course, dear. Nothing else."

Emma choked. "Regina! You didn't?"

Regina pursed her lips, giving nothing away as Emma looked at her bug-eyed. "_Did you?_" she squeaked.

The brunette chuckled and whispered, "_You'll never know_." Her lips descended on Emma's and their passion began once more.

. . . . . . . .

Emma put her hand to her throbbing temples. They had been _intimate_. Regina had shared of herself in every sense. That much was not fake. It couldn't be_. Could it?_

Her anger rose anew and she shoved the cell phone in her pocket, jammed on her boots and strode to the door. She flung it open and the first thing she saw was a scout bird. Hovering. At eye level. _Creepy little... _

Fear and fury spidered through her head._ Was this something Regina and Cora had planned together? Screw her over - literally - and then film the aftermath? News at 10?_

With a ferocious growl Emma hefted the sword in her hand, smoothly brought it forward and viciously smashed its head in. The creature squawked as it pile-drove into the ground. Emma kicked it to one side and then glared at it. It eyed her back. Damned thing was still functional.

She picked it up and stared into the soulless face, realising from the whirring noise it was still probably recording everything for Her Majesty's pleasure.

She gave a chilling smile and leaned into the mechanical red eye, giving it a nice close-up of her. Then she swore: "FUCK YOU, CORA MILLS!"

She dropped it back to the ground and gave it a nasty kick.

She felt a little better but she was still shaken up. She slammed the door shut again and tried to steady her breathing. Her hands were trembling so she dropped the sword. She headed to collapse on the bed for another weepy cry._ For God's sake._

Today was proving a hell of a lot harder to get through than she could ever have imagined.

. . . . . . . . . .

Much later, a red-rimmed, puffy-eyed Emma gingerly opened the door again, sword in hand and then immediately leaped back in shock. _Shit!_

A huge grey wolf was crouched outside, waiting, the half-crushed mechanical bird lying between its front paws where she had kicked it earlier. The wolf was watching the front door. And, now, Emma.

She gripped her sword and lifted it menacingly. The beast eyed it and shook its head. "I wouldn't," it said in a low growl. "I am faster than you."

Emma took in the animal's enormous form, and quivering muscles, tense and poised. She could believe it.

"Fine," she muttered. "What the hell do you want," she snarled, diplomacy having deserted her.

"Her Majesty would like to make a deal."

"Her Majesty?" Emma mocked. "You mean your master The Twisted Psycho?" _That did feel better._

"_My _master is _not _Queen Cora," the wolf growled, clearly offended.

Emma smiled coldly. "I notice you didn't disagree with my description of her though."

The wolf closed its mouth, nostrils flaring.

"Alright," Emma said, tapping the sword into the dirt in annoyance. "What does _she _want?"

"Stop killing her scout birds, and she won't kill you with the twitch of her finger. _This _week. She suggests you might want to use that time to ... flee her domain?"

Emma's eye fell to the valuable damaged bird the wolf was protecting. It quivered and tried to move its head. Perhaps the thing was salvageable. Given Cora had only three birds left; possibly two and a half now - no wonder she was getting a bit antsy.

"_Can _she kill me with a twitch of a finger?" Emma asked curiously. "Because, seriously, I find it hard to believe she hasn't already tried if she could."

The wolf's teeth parted menacingly and she could see their sharpness. "Her Majesty has a powerful enchanted trebuchet. It can hurl a fireball up to seven horizons away and destroy your cottage while you sleep. You would never know it was coming."

"And she hasn't used this super-awesome slingshot before now because..."

"Her Majesty does as she pleases."

"Right, she's recuperating you mean. After she wore herself out with magic tricks and I almost slit her throat."

If wolves could roll their eyes, this one very nearly did. "Do you accept Her Majesty's deal?"

"I have a better one - she leaves me alone for a month and in that time I won't come after her and raze her castle to the ground while _she _sleeps."

Emma put just the right amount of cocky on it, hoping the wolf believed her.

The wolf appeared to laugh. It came out like a snuffle. "_You_? You think you could take on two powerful witches? On your own? With just _that_?" Its head inclined towards the sword. "I have seen you use it, princess. You are _not _very good."

Emma ignored the slur as her world seemed to abruptly shift on its axis. "_Two..." _she gasped. "_Two witches_? What..." A sick feeling rose. "W-who is the other one?"

"I believe you know her quite well. You defended her from me not long past."

Emma felt faint. She sank to her knees. "No," she whispered. "Why would she go _there_? To _her_?"

The wolf stared unblinkingly. "It is none of my concern."

The beast seemed weary of the conversation and now growled at her: "Do you accept Queen Cora's deal or not?"

Emma gripped the sword tightly, head spinning. Well, she really did have nothing left in this world, it seemed. Regina had allied herself with the goddamned devil.

"Fine," she snapped. "But it has to be a month not a week. Tell her she can take it or expect to find two more feathery carcasses with my boot prints on their pretty little faces."

She stood and glared at the wolf. _To hell with this. _She turned, slammed the door shut, gripped her sword fiercely and stormed off towards the hatch, leaving the wolf gazing after her.

Her legs carried her shakily. She glanced back to see the animal carefully lift the damaged scout bird into its powerful jaws and lope off in a different direction.

A thought struck Emma and she stopped cold. She turned and stared long and hard, watching exactly the path the retreating wolf was taking and then swung her eyes up to the horizon for a landmark in line with its bearing.

One thing Emma was extremely good at was estimating heights and distances. It came in very useful when tracking someone, knowing whether to jump from a roof of a certain height. And as her eyes pivoted from the wolf's unwavering route, beyond and straight up, she saw the low peak of a small mountain. She calculated swiftly.

That would probably be about three hours' hard slog as the crow flies. Hmmm. Maybe closer if you were some sort of indefatigable super wolf – which might be able to do the distance in close to 90 minutes. _If_ that was its destination, of course. But then, she realised as she turned back for the hatch, she had no way at all of knowing where it was heading. _Pointless_.

She scowled and tramped on.

. . . . . . . . . . .

After Emma had sent the stored texts, it didn't take long. Mary Margaret's messages were quick and to the horrified point. "EMMA! I was worried sick when you didn't text and now I get this! What on _earth _has Regina been doing? These spells are the most powerful in the realm. Even if she's just practising, doing these near you could get you killed! Tell her to stop! It is so irresponsible."

Emma texted back: "Not Regina's spells. We had a bit of trouble. Gone now."

There was a long pause. The minutes ticked by. Finally the phone beeped again. "Oh, Em. The Blue Fairy says you have another nine days there. Sorry. Stay away from magic and you'll be home soon. Right?"

_SHIT! NINE MORE DAYS?_

Emma sat back on her haunches and wanted to cry. _Again_. Out of the corner of her eye she saw another scout bird approach and circle and it took all her energy not to leap up and attempt to wring its spying little neck. She turned her back to it and hugged herself.

Her phone beeped again. "Em, still there?"

She texted back: "Y"

"We love you. I'm sorry you have to wait. Please stay out of harm's way. And I am glad Regina's with you if that sort of magic is around. Obviously she has been able to keep you safe. Thank goodness!"

_If only she knew_.

She texted back another "Y".

"And James and I have been talking. Maybe she's not _completely _evil anymore? Henry is proof, isn't he? We've loved getting to know our grandson. People can change, sometimes? _Right_?"

Mary Margaret sounded a little too desperate to convince herself.

Emma buried her face in her hands. _Right_.

She finally texted back: "Battery low. Not sure how long I can still text you. C U in nine days."

Emma sat there, brooding. She felt the sun rise higher and the wind shift. But still she sat, holding her knees, her brain going crazy with competing thoughts. What was Regina doing going back to _that_?

Did she feel she had no other option? Emma had been clear at the outset she'd leave her and go home to Storybrooke and Henry. Did Regina just decide to get in first and leave? But why do it the way she had? And why go _there_? Surely she had other options? _Or did she_?

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a shape growing bigger. Ah. The wolf was back. She checked the time on her phone. It had been gone for well over three hours on its round trip. It slowly trotted towards her, its cargo obviously dropped off with Cora. It proved Cora's castle was indeed located near that mountain.

_Score one, for me._

"You have a month's amnesty," the wolf growled by way of introduction. "The queen agrees to your terms."

Emma stared at the animal. "Tell her I'll abide by them. Oh and if I hear she is hurting her daughter I'll track her bony ass down and kick her head in – please quote me accurately," she added sweetly. "And if you see her daughter..." she faded out.

What to tell her? _Thanks for breaking my heart?_ _Come away from the psycho, dear?_ _Please come home ... to me?_

_I love you._

_Why?_

The wolf looked at her, waiting.

"Um... never mind. Nothing. I don't care." She wiped her nose.

The wolf's eyes narrowed. "You are like her."

"What, who Regina?"

It inclined its head.

"So I'm an abandoning cruel bitch, too? Thanks. You're so kind."

The wolf stared and shook its giant grey head. "Salty."

Emma blinked. _Salty_?

The wolf turned and trotted away.

_What the hell?_

She shook her head in confusion and finally stood. She needed to go back to bed. Her head freaking hurt.

. . . . . .

The days passed slowly. Her phone battery had run out now but Mary Margaret had already agreed to meet her on the ninth day at Regina's mansion so Emma wasn't too worried. Assuming it was still there, Emma mused. Last she'd seen of it, rioters were working themselves up into a frenzy.

The blonde had been feeling too low to do much. She was sick of the food, she was sick of the memories and she was particularly sick of Regina's torturously scented bed. She had taken to sleeping on the couch. Absurdly small and uncomfortable as it was, it was still better than _her _intoxicating smell.

She was now thoroughly annoyed with herself and completely over the sight of the four walls of the cottage. The days were beginning to blur. One thought kept looping through her head. It wouldn't hurt to go check out the mountain. Just to see. Nothing more. A reconnaissance mission. Maybe even get a glimpse of Regina?

Her heart quickened and before she knew it, she had flung on her clothes, boots, had a sword in one hand, an apple in her jacket pocket and a canteen of water tied to her hip.

After all, doing _something_ was better than just sitting around feeling sorry for herself. _Right_? It's not like she was dying to see the woman who ran out on her after the most freaking fantastic night of passion or anything.

. . . . . . . .

Emma set out at a brisk pace, but she was careful to make note of any landmarks she passed, well aware that while she might be able to easily see the mountain, finding her way back to a little cottage would be much harder. Hell, they didn't call it an Infinite Forest for no reason.

At any other time she might have noticed how pretty the area was, the vegetation slowly turning from pale green to deep emerald the closer she got to the mountain. The air had started to get colder and she was beginning to worry she was under-dressed. Occasionally she would pass wildlife, ranging from deer to rabbits, but each animal scampered away on her approach.

At the two hour mark she stopped for a break in a small clearing. She had a sip from her canteen and was biting into the apple when she heard a terrifying roar.

A blur flew through the air directly at her. Emma could make out feline teeth, a maw so wide it could swallow her head whole, wide white eyes and sleek white fur. The snowlion-type beast was almost the size of her VW.

Fear and adrenaline flooded her body and her hand reached for her sword. Even as she did so, she knew it would be too late.

As images of Henry, Mary Margaret, David, Ruby and Granny flashed through her head, she realised her mind had called up a picture of Regina to settle on for her last moments, brown eyes laughing at her, a smile as beautiful as it was wide. Loving her. She was leaning in, to nuzzle her neck, and Emma felt tears prick her eyes.

Everything slowed down. She could smell the beast's fetid breath now, feel its warmth and hear ragged breathing. Spittle flew from its mouth. Her sword was still rising but it was nowhere near high enough.

Regina's eyes watched her fondly. Emma smiled sadly back in goodbye.

An almighty WHUMPH knocked her flat. And then nothing.

_What_?

Suddenly savage and vicious snarls were all around her and she realised the snowlion had been intercepted mid-air by a wolf. It had used her chest to springboard off her and then used its weight to smash the much larger snowlion off target.

The wolf and snowlion were now ripping and biting at each other. There was a howl, Emma felt her blood chill, and suddenly everywhere she turned, there were wolves.

The snowlion began to retreat as the pack started to circle it, lashing out with a vicious curling paw lined with razor-sharp claws. One wolf was swatted away like a child's toy, yelping in pain.

But there were too many. Emma lay flat and made as small a target as she could, hugging the ground, watching with wide eyes as the wolves drove her attacker away.

As if by some unspoken command, nine of the wolves pounced at once, snarling and tearing at the giant white beast which gave a furious bloodcurdling roar and then flew off into the woods, chased by most of the pack.

Most. Not all.

Emma rose slowly to her shaking knees, fingers now white where they clenched the sword handle, never taking her eye off the animals stalking up to her.

One of the larger wolves dipped its head.

"Saviour, it is an honour to meet you."

"Ungh."

The wolf blinked.

"Sorry, I um," Emma squeaked. _Gah_.

"We heard you were in the area. Our pack is aligned to King James and Queen Snow. When we learned you were about to pass through the deathclaw's territory, we thought you might like an escort. Or, as it turns out, more than that."

"I am glad you did," Emma swallowed, her mouth insanely dry. She fumbled about for her canteen and took a long drink.

"We are surprised to see you out of your lands. Wouldn't your family normally roam the Enchanted Forest?"

"I, ah, sure. But I wanted to see someone here," Emma said, wondering when her heart's racing would drop down to merely express-train speed.

"The only humans around here are at the dark one's castle. Surely you would not be going there?" The wolf looked afraid even as it said it.

"Um, perhaps. Why?"

Several of the other wolves were beginning to return and word of Emma's travel plans were clearly being passed around. The fur on all their backs was beginning to go up.

"Demons and darkness dwell within, Saviour. There is great cruelty. All the realm suffers under that reign. Perhaps we could escort you back, away from there? Somewhere safer? What about the Mighty Falls of Iscobar? They're very pretty at this time of year."

Emma stood, dusted off her jeans and retied her canteen to her hip. She held the sword loosely at her side.

"No, I really think I would prefer to scout out the castle, for future possible, ah, sortees," she said, hoping that sounded Saviour-like.

The wolves at the back of the pack were now staring at her with a mix of fear and horror. Several turned tail and slunk off.

"I am afraid we cannot assist you in _that_," the lead wolf said uncomfortably. "We strongly urge you to change your mind. And if not, at least stay clear of the devil's escarpment. And the thorn pits. And the swelter pools. And the blasterclouds."

Emma's mouth dropped open. "The what and the what now?"

All the other wolves had now disappeared.

Only the one who spoke remained. He looked at her almost sadly. "It was nice having met you," he said, as though he suspected it would be the last he would ever see of her. "We all admire your parents very much. They were kind rulers. We hope they'll return soon and free this forest from the tyranny of the evil two."

He nodded and then turned and left.

"Uh OK, um thanks," she called out after him. But the wolf was gone. _The evil two?_ Did he mean Regina and Cora? Seriously?

And what the hell had she gotten herself into? What on earth had made her think she could navigate fairytale lands without help? She was like a babe in the woods. Tracking might be one skill she had, but seriously – deathclaws and blasterclouds and, and … _shit_!

Emma continued on but now with extreme caution. She could not believe she hadn't even heard the deathclaw until its frightening bulk was sailing through the air towards her, its jaw open.

She had been incredibly lucky.

The ground had begun to rise, and the vegetation was beginning to thin out. The mountain was closer than she had realised, but she now had to try and work out which way the palace might be.

As she stopped she saw a strange white material across the ground in front of her. It looked almost like sand, but that was absurd this high up. As she put one foot forward onto the odd scatterings she felt a whoosh. The air temperature changed immediately, jumping up 20 degrees, and her hair flew up as though she were standing over a grate.

Every part of her body screamed danger, but she could not work out where it would come from. With only a second to spare she remembered the first piece of advice Regina had ever given her when training her in magic – most attacks come from above or head height.

She dropped to the ground like an anvil and felt a blast come out of nowhere of superhot air, filled with particles that would sandblast the skin off any poor creature caught in its path. Anything three feet above her or more would have been blasted and cooked.

In a moment it was gone, and the sandy matter dropped out of the air and landed harmlessly on top of her.

She sat up, coughing, sweating with the heat, although the temperature was now dropping back to normal. _Holy crap!_

_Well, I guess those were the blasterclouds. _

At least she now knew the warning signs, and what to do. And based on the colour of the ground, she also now knew exactly what their flight patterns were. She stepped deliberately onto brown soil and continued on.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see something glinting and turned to realise she could just make out a structure. Dark and grand, the windows were catching the sunlight. _Well if THAT'S not an evil storybook castle, I don't know what is, _Emma mused.

She now had a destination.

Emma headed towards it for the better part of half an hour, mindful of exactly where she was going and the strangeness of the land around her. The air smelled different – sulphuric and just plain creepy. And the birds had stopped singing some time ago, not filling her with hope she was going anywhere remotely safe.

The land began to dip, forming a channel leading up to the castle, with sheer rocks on either side and craggy boulders and scatterings of tundra all around. To the left, near the easier path, she could see a strange rocky overhang. If she went there, it would shave quite a bit off her journey. She stared at it, feeling a strange sensation. Everything in her told her not to do it.

_Did that, or did that not, look like an escarpment, anyway?_ She was sure the wolf had warned her off some sort of evil escarpment. Decided, she chose a longer path that wound along the channel on the right.

As she passed by in line with the outcropping, but well away from it, she watched in horror as an enormous ebony-black vulture-like creature flew from behind the rock, swooped down and snared a thrashing boar in its talons and flew back up to the rocky plain above. An unholy sound of boar squeals and bird caws erupted as the larger creature shredded its prey alive. Emma shut her eyes and turned away. _OK, Swan, glad not to be prehistoric-vulture food today._ She paused for a sip of water.

"Please Miss Knight, a drop if you will?"

A small voice surprised the blonde who looked around. A small creature with a bulbous hairy back and ugly pinky-grey face was staring up at her, with an expression that could only be described as pitiable.

Emma dropped to her knees. "Yeah, sure, why not," she said and tilted the canteen towards its open mouth.

The creature drank greedily and Emma stopped, conscious she had to preserve the water for her own journey. "Please, Miss Knight – a few drops more. I'll save your life."

Emma raised an eyebrow. She'd heard plenty of lines before in her life, but never one so obviously absurd. This creature barely came halfway up her boot. Still, the poor thing looked parched. She poured some more.

Finally the marsupial had its fill and leaned back. "Thanks, Miss. You are very kind."

Emma grinned and rose, but its small front arms reached out and snagged her boot with tiny spindly fingers. "Don't you want to know how to save your life?"

She looked down. "Um, sure. OK?" she said.

The animal pointed to some small pebbles scattered around. "Take those, as many as you can, fill your pouches. And it will save your life."

Emma laughed. "It will, huh?"

"I am serious, Miss. Do as I say. And when you come to the fallen log, you take them out and use them. _Yes? You see_?"

Emma really didn't see, but it seemed so earnest that she decided to humour the creature and scooped up as many pebbles as she could. "Enough?" she asked it.

It nodded.

She crammed a few more into her pockets just to be sure and turned to ask how to use them at the "fallen log" but the creature was already gone.

Oh well, she was probably about to be the topic of much mirth in the animal world. But being the butt of jokes she could handle, if that's all this was.

She continued along the canyon for 15 more minutes and came to a white twisted downed tree trunk. It was conspicuous by its presence as there were no trees of any kind in the area. Just rocks all around, mushy grey ground ahead, and some dense vegetation beyond that.

She was about to keep on trudging when a voice inside of her reminded her of the animal's words.

_Well, what could it hurt?_

She grabbed a handful of pebbles and held them up. Nothing happened.

_OK._

She dropped a few at her feet. Same result.

Emma peered at the canyon before her. She wound her arm back and flung the pebbles as far as she could.

To her astonishment, as each hit the ground, enormous scalding mud pits opened up swallowing them, sucking them into the hidden holes. The ground slowly rose back up to normal height, but that delay gave Emma enough time to mentally map where the pits were, and where the ground remained solid.

She quickly scrambled along a safe route, pausing only when the ground was now solidly flat all around. She grabbed another handful of pebbles and tossed, watching closely where the mud pits were hiding and ran through the gaps once more. She repeated the routine four times until no more holes in the land opened up before her.

_I am betting those were the swelter pools_, she thought, with a tight grimace. _Would have hated to meet those without warning._

The castle was almost upon her. The fastest route was through a prickly passageway that seemed to go almost directly to it. Emma had learned her lesson from the escarpment and deduced this was almost certainly the thorn pits the wolf had warned of. No way in hell was she going to tangle with those. She chose a rocky cliff face up the side, which completely avoided the path and jagged foliage, tucked her sword in her belt, and began to climb.

She was halfway up when she saw a scout bird. It was the first sign she was in the right place. It was however a very vulnerable spot to be, should Cora decide to check its surveillance footage.

Emma's arms were starting to ache. She had done some rock climbing back in her early days, when she wanted to learn everything she could to be an efficient bounty hunter. But she hadn't kept it up. Her legs were quivering with tension and she was beginning to doubt her sanity for even doing this for a woman who had bolted in the middle of the night to return to the most cruel person Emma had ever met.

But before her dark doubts could overrun her, she was slithering over the top. A series of large boulders lay between her and the front of the castle. But the castle was shaped in an L, and the side of the castle, a bleak black structure seemingly made of granite, rose up behind the boulders.

She could see some guards at the main door, but she had no intention of getting that close. She pulled her sword out and gripped it tight, just in case. She sprinted over to the giant rocks, taking cover and then looked around her. Above her, she could see a balcony. If she could just climb the rocky pile, she would be high enough to catch the corner of ornate stone feature work and scramble up it. Then she would be able to hoist herself on to the balcony and then…

Emma froze. She hadn't actually worked out what the hell she was going to do when she got there.

The scout bird was back and circling conspicuously. _Shit_ – if one of the guards got it into his head to wonder why, she'd be roadkill. And even if he didn't, at this rate Emma wouldn't have time for indecision if Cora got hold of the footage in the next few minutes.

So she quickly scampered up the lower boulders, finding the largest one at the top extremely hard to get a handhold on. More than once she found herself sliding down its smooth side.

Finally, she decided the problem was she was trying to do it one-handed. She threaded the sword through the belt at her back. Then she took a step back and jumped as high as she could.

After much scrabbling, skinned hands and bloodied scraped knuckles, she managed to make it up the curved rock. Now on top of the boulder, she pressed her stomach flat against it as she eyed the guards at the gate some distance away below. To her relief they weren't looking in her direction.

She glanced up. OK – there was a buttress support, with some fancy stone lattice work. If she leaped, she might just be able to hook her hand in and pull….

_Crap_!

Emma heard faint talking from the balcony above and flattened herself to the rock, inching as far to the edge she could so she was in the building's shadows. Carefully she eased the sword out of her belt and lay it beside her. She rolled over as quietly as she could and looked straight up the line of the building, barely visible in her dark corner.

It was Regina, standing at the balcony staring directly out over the canyon Emma had just trudged through. Her eyes were faraway. But it was not her eyes that had Emma agog.

_What in the hell was she wearing? _

Leather, leather and more leather. Her hair was now curled and twisted in an ornate design, stacked on her head. It made her look years older. Her makeup was dark to the point of severe.

The jewels on the hand which clenched the balcony were glinting in the sun. Emma wondered for a moment if these were what she had seen from far away. But that would mean Regina had been standing there for at least an hour. Not exactly something the efficient woman would ever do.

But none of these changes were what had completely stunned the blonde.

For a start Regina's chest now boasted two plump, bulging, magnificent mounds which had greatly swollen from the adorable handfuls Emma had so delighted in playing with. They were squeezed together, barely contained by a severe black bodice that dropped into a cleavage so deep it probably ended at the mayor's boots.

Correction, _Her Majesty's_ boots.

Emma was transfixed. Had Regina taken a wrong turn at an S&M party?

There was no doubting that with the change in appearance came a different bearing, a stiffer, formal posture (how could she not with that cinched waist?) – Regina Mills was now every inch a royal.

Emma couldn't work out who the brunette was speaking to, but it was enough to prevent the blonde from trying to call up to her. Although she doubted she would have heard her anyway.

A moment later Cora joined her daughter at the balcony, and Emma hissed in a breath. She looked even creepier than she remembered, her smooth face hiding the cruel sneers of a sadistic torturer. Regina pointed to something in the distance. It seemed to be where the vulture had been dismembering the boar. Cora would doubtlessly enjoy that floorshow.

As Emma stared up, she studied their body language. Cora had come to stand right beside her daughter, both arms ramrod straight, hands curving across the balcony's low stone rail in a proprietary grip. Her fingers twitched and moved constantly.

Cora was speaking softly and Regina nodded. And then … Emma stared, appalled, as Regina gently placed a hand over her mother's and gave it a squeeze. The other woman nodded back and turned, leaving.

Regina stood there for a while, gazing out. Her face was a stony mask. All joy sucked from it. She looked hard and cold. Just like her mother.

Emma's heart broke.

Her Regina was gone.

She waited a few minutes more and Regina finally turned from the balcony and went inside.

Emma immediately rolled back to sitting position, gathered her sword, shimmied down the rock, and headed for home.

She had been right, she thought bleakly.

There was nothing for her here.

. . . . . . .

Emma's return to the cottage had been uneventful. She had memorised the path well, and wolves had reappeared at deathclaw territory to escort her through it. The leader seemed extremely impressed to even see her again.

When he bowed his head in farewell once they had exited the area, this time it was deep and with respect.

Emma didn't bother going into the cottage when she saw it loom ahead. She went straight to the hot spring and had a long soak. She tried to get the cold, bleak face of Regina out of her mind. But all she could see was her small hand, snaking across to Cora's. A gesture of tenderness. A daughter showing allegiance to a mother.

Any hopes she might have had that Regina was being held against her will were snuffed out. The brunette had made her choice. And this was the future she had selected. Without Emma.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Finally the day to go home had arrived. Emma pulled out a small sack and began to pack. She was wearing the clothes she came in, and slid on the red leather jacket very slowly.

She put a canteen of water in the sack, knowing the tunnel walk was a long hike. She put in a few apples. And then ... she looked at Regina's father's shoes. On impulse she tossed them in the bag.

She looked around, eyes landing on Regina's black tailored vest. Her fingers dusted across the quality cotton fabric. She sighed. She dropped that in the sack as well.

Green eyes flicked across the wardrobe rack. The brown lace-up leather vest._ How hot had Regina looked in that?_ She smiled. It faded after a moment. She was being ridiculous. She left it where it hung.

Finally she closed up the cottage, knowing that after a week of inactivity the biometric lock at the front would put it in lockdown and, without Regina's handprint, no one else would be able to enter it again later.

She felt a pang. She'd had the best of times and the most crushing of times here. She looked slowly around. The blue bedspread lay folded on the couch. The cupboards with the jars of pickles and preserves were as they had been when she arrived.

Emma picked up the sword and closed the door. Her last glimpse was of the bed. Unmade and rumpled. Sheets strewn. She had never been able to face touching it to remake it again ... after.

The door gave a final 'snick' as she pulled it shut.

. . . . . .

Emma crouched down in front of the fake rock hologram, slid her hand through it to the handle and twisted sharply. To her enormous relief, the hatch lit up bright blue and the lid opened. She exhaled. She dropped the sword and sack through the hole, hearing the thud and clang below, forgetting a moment too late her apples wouldn't appreciate the fall. Oh well.

She almost scrambled down in her haste to leave.

The very last thing she saw of the Infinite Forest as she felt her way down the rungs was an inquisitive scout bird, hovering. Watching her through the hole. Recording, no doubt.

Emma reached up and slammed the lid tight and twisted the handle viciously hard to lock it.

She only exhaled when her feet hit the rocky floor.

At last.


	2. Chapter 2

**A LEDGER SQUARED IN BLOOD**  
**By Scribes and Scrolls**

**CHAPTER TWO: HOMECOMING**

Emma sank to the ground inside Regina's darkened cider press room and exhaled. She opened her sack, pulled out the canteen and drank heavily. Her hands shook as she screwed the lid back on. The walk back had seemed to take far longer. Last time her intoxicating companion had been somewhat distracting.

To that end, on her return journey she had noted all the emotional "landmarks". Her eyes had flicked to the wall they had sat against when Regina told her Graham was alive. Given what had transpired later, the mayor's jealousy over Emma seemed ridiculous now. Although she had since wondered exactly who Regina had been jealous of.

She had faltered when they passed the spot where she had kissed the brunette for the first time, and where Regina had kissed her back with passion. She remembered the feeling of cotton under her fingers as she had slid her hands down from Regina's collar, to her lapels and then just under, to smooth across her vest. The same vest Emma had hesitated over a minute ago, as her fingers felt about for the canteen.

That had also been the first time she had run fingertips through Regina's soft hair and it had been as arousing as her lips, her smell, and the way she slid her tongue across Emma's. She shivered.

She also eyed the spot where she had shoved a sword under Regina's chin. She wondered how the brunette had known she wasn't going to use it. Or had it all just been bravado? Like her supposed expertise at fishing? Now she'd never know.

Emma wiped her shaking hands down her jeans, knowing she would have to deal with a lot of excited people in a few moments. She had to put on a carefully constructed face that hid what she felt. A single question about Regina could make her barely propped-up defences crumble and she just ... _couldn't_... crack again.

With a sigh, she stood, balled her hands into a fist and then shook them out. She leaned down for her sack and sword and strode up the spiral steps, jumping up to push the black button high on the wall.

The library wall slid open. Emma peered out. She was surprised to find no damage in the room and an eerie silence. She slipped through the door, pausing to put Regina's trio of books back on the shelves to close the wall - just in case.

She crept out into the hallway. She could see faint scuff marks all along the floor and skirting boards, indicating that at some point many people had surged down there. But, still, no destruction. She headed slowly out to the lounge. She could see through a cracked window Regina's downed beloved apple tree. The limbs were now twisted and grasping at obscene angles, one jutting hard up against a window.

A single leather lounge chair was in the wrong place. Emma stared at it uncomprehendingly for a few moments. Nothing made sense about any of this. There was no sign anything was amiss - let alone a mob had invaded.

It was ... odd.

Emma heard light laughter and turned towards it. _Henry's voice. From the kitchen perhaps? _She headed for it and couldn't help remembering the last time she had been in that room.

A pale apple turnover being slid into a plastic container. Soothing words. Promises made. The container handed to her. Smiles, glittering eyes.

At the time she had thought nothing of it, but as the warmth of the baked concoction fogged up the container on her drive home, Emma now wondered how she could have missed such an obvious clue. Emma's bounty-hunting lifestyle had taught her everything she needed to know about grabbing takeaway pastry goods on the go. No seasoned cook - and Regina Mills clearly fit that category - would have made such a fundamental error of enclosing hot pastry in plastic, unless they liked it soggy and ruined. That Regina could have been so distracted to slip up on such a basic thing, Emma realised it should have been like a flashing red light over her head.

But whenever Regina smiled at her like that, she usually missed the obvious. Emma pushed open the door, her gut twisting with the knowledge Regina's plan had been to poison her. Right here.

_Maybe she had merely succeeded in a different way? _Emma's face dropped.

Three sets of eyes turned. Henry squealed and rushed over, shouting "EMMA!" at the top of his lungs. He wrapped himself around her waist and she smiled, patting his head as she glanced up at his grandparents.

They put down cups of hot drinks, slid off kitchen stools and gave her broad grins.

Emma, who had promised herself firmly "no more tears", took one look at their matching sappy expressions and cursed inwardly._ Ah hell._

Mary Margaret's chin was beginning to wobble and Emma's eyes blinked rapidly as her parents - _her freaking parents for god's sake! - _enfolded her into a loving group hug, surrounding Henry.

Emma hesitated but allowed it, the small girl inside of her remembering so many long nights, unable to sleep, wishing and dreaming for this very moment. Still, reconciling it was strange, given only a few weeks ago these people were merely her friends.

"Oh Em," her mother gasped. "I am so glad you're back safely." She pulled away and looked her up and down in a decidedly maternal move. Her smile faltered slightly when her eyes rested on the strain in Emma's face, green eyes tight and tired - the nights of couch surfing catching up with her days ago. The brunette glanced at David who seemed to share a knowing look.

Emma sniffed as inconspicuously as she could as emotion welled up. "Hey. It's, um, good to be back. So what'd I miss?"

Henry pulled away and peered behind her then stared back up at her with big round eyes. "Where's Mom? Did she get away OK? Is she safe now?"

Emma's heart almost shattered into a million pieces. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to push away the memories, and when she opened them she couldn't help but notice the worried look her parents exchanged.

"Yeah kid, she's ... fine," Emma said, squeezing out the lie with difficulty. "She's home now." Her mouth twisted subconsciously in a sour grimace. Mary Margaret - _Snow, I have to call her Snow now, _Emma reminded herself - shot her a glance that said _"We'll talk about Regina later."_

The blonde grimaced. She hoped it was _much, much l_ater.

"That's good," her son beamed. "Hey what's in the sack?" he asked curiously, eyes dropping.

_Shit, shit, shit_, Emma froze. How do I say my lover's father's shoes and her sexy vest I couldn't bear to leave behind? "Just some supplies," she said uncomfortably, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. A blush rose.

David ... _James_, Emma mentally corrected, cleared his throat. "You must be famished. Tunnel escapes are like that. Trust me, I know," he chuckled. "How about we head home and order in pizza?"

Emma grinned for the first time in days. "That'd be really nice. Dying for real food, bed and a shower, not necessarily in that order."

Snow laughed aloud. "Em, your idea of 'real' food has always been ... unique."

"Hey, it has all the food groups - tomato, cheese, pepperoni and fat," Emma ticked off earnestly.

She felt everyone relax at her attempt at a joke. She gave a shaky exhale. _OK, maybe she could do this._

As they headed towards the door Emma was yet again struck by how undamaged Regina's mansion was.

She frowned. "I don't get it," she began, "when I was leaving, the mob was just breaking through. What the hell happened? Or didn't happen?"

The others paused and an odd expression twisted Henry's features. James' hand immediately went to his shoulder and he patted it comfortingly.

"There was a bit of a showdown," he said bleakly. "Snow and I went to see what was going on. Henry," he paused and looked reproachfully at his grandson, "had the same idea and slipped away from his nurses."

Snow now spoke, her arms coming around to hug herself unconsciously. "It was horrible, Em. Everyone was affected by the rage. Even Granny looked ready to tear the place apart. They were chanting Regina's name. It was getting so ugly. And then..."

"Then I stopped them!" Henry piped up proudly. "Didn't I?" He turned to look up at his grandparents, eyes shining.

"Yes you did," James said seriously.

Emma gasped. "What? How!"

Snow tilted her head. "He barged in and started shouting at the top of his voice. He demanded to know what he had ever done to any of them to make them want to hurt his home and his things and his mother's things that he loved. And then he started crying."

"Did not," Henry said, flushing looking at his feet.

James smiled. "Yes you did, and it's a good thing you did. They were shaken out of the rage. They all looked very ashamed and tried to sneak out, like it had never happened."

"Some of them even said 'sorry' on the way out," Henry added. "Granny and Red and a whole bunch of others came back the next day and cleaned up everything and they apologised to me again."

He glanced out the window, a glimmer of sadness crossing his face as he pointed. "But they left the apple tree like it was."

"Well," Snow said quietly, "the tree was Regina's - a symbol of her - and they weren't THAT forgiving."

"But I don't understand," Emma interrupted. "I felt the rage, too. It was really powerful magic. How could Henry shouting at them just stop it?"

"It was his love for Regina that shattered the magic. Love is stronger than anger or any other emotion."

Emma glanced at her son, curious to know whether this time he'd deny loving his adoptive mother. Instead he grinned proudly back at her and nodded.

"Well good job, kid," she smiled. "That took a lot of guts. I'm proud of you for standing up to them like that."

"We all are," Snow said fondly, eyes dropping to the boy beaming from ear to ear. "So, how about that pizza?"

. . . . . . .

The pizza afternoon, turned evening, had been fun at first, and god knows Emma's taste buds had been leaping for joy at the first gooey gorgeous taste of processed fatty food of which they had been deprived.

But as the hours wore on, it rapidly turned draining. Well-wishers had popped by, and Emma had coped until Red and Granny arrived looking both hopeful and inquisitive. She excused herself with a headache and went to bed. She had noticed Henry's belongings had been stacked neatly next to the couch downstairs, clearly his new bed - which he'd doubtlessly love given its proximity to the TV and the fridge - and Emma's things were still in her room. It made her immediately feel welcome. And safe. Like nothing had changed.

Except it had. All of it.

She flopped on the bed with a hearty sigh. A few minutes later Snow stuck her head in and asked if she needed anything. Emma had muttered into her pillow: "Three days sleep, a tub of ice cream - double fudge - and to be left alone. No more visitors."

Snow had flicked a worried glance at her and promised to see to it. Emma heard the door shut, voices in the background, and the sound of people leaving. _Thank God for that._

. . . . . . . .

Three days had passed and in that time all Emma had done was shower, sleep, eat in her bedroom, including large doses of double-fudge ice cream, and repeat. She was a cliche of the broken-hearted and she knew it. But in all the time she spent trying to process everything that had happened, she couldn't bring herself to regret her night with Regina. Even if she had later made Emma feel like a pathetic pity fuck, that didn't change how she felt.

It had seemed almost inevitable, this thing between them. She just hadn't realised it until the moment Regina had kissed her. And then she had never wanted to stop. The way her skin had burned at the mayor's touch, the way she curved her body against the brunette's, craved her. Wanting. So much wanting. All these feelings - it had to have started more than a week ago.

She felt like she'd have died if Regina hadn't made love to her that night.

Making love. That's what they had done. Emma, expert of the one-night stand, knew the difference, that's for sure.

So, no, Emma decided, she didn't regret it. She just couldn't get past it either.

The agony of loss sat within her so darkly, no amount of ice cream and confused, sympathetic looks from her mother would go near dislodging it.

She wished she could hate Regina. But the best she could come up with was despising how callously she'd hurt her. And even though she had seen with her own eyes the cold, distant person she'd become, the unfathomable choice she'd clearly made, Emma couldn't help but feel for the woman who had shared her bed on that one indelible night.

Emma finally concluded this must simply be what love is. To be exposed and vulnerable to the one who can hurt you the most. Despite all common sense, logic and even necessity, Emma Swan could not do anything but love the cruelest of them all.

And that was the hardest admission of all.

The more time passed, the more morose Emma became. The less she wanted to face people. Especially people almost certain to ask her about a certain someone.

A couple of times Emma had taken the vest out of her sack and traced its lines, fingered the buttons and remembered how sexy and strong Regina looked when she wore it. Then she'd catch sight of the letter folded and hidden in the brown shoes, and her lips would thin and she'd throw the black material back in the sack in a fit of fury.

She'd drop back on the bed and remind herself she had to stop freaking crying. It worked.

Sometimes.

On the fourth day came the knock on the door she had been dreading. She braced herself and Snow's pixie face appeared in the frame.

"Can I come in, Em?" she asked breathlessly, entering the room, closing the door behind her.

The blonde scowled, given she was already in. She turned her head and stared out the window, wondering where Regina was now. And whether she missed Emma.

"I wanted to ask you about..."

_Please don't say Regina, please don't say Regina, Please don't say..._

"Your jacket," Snow said, holding the red leather up.

_Thank God._

_Wait. What?_

Snow came around until she was facing Emma. "I saw it by the hamper and couldn't help but notice it's been beautifully darned. Did you do that?"

"Regina," Emma sighed. _Come on, she had to have known that. _Emma couldn't even darn a sock.

"Did you ask her to, or did she..."

"It was a surprise," Emma snarled with more vehemence than she'd intended.

Snow tilted her head curiously. "You don't seem too happy about it." She opened the jacket, revealing the stunningly detailed 'Emma Swan'. "She did a lovely job." The question lay there. Hanging.

"Yeah."

Snow moved and sat on the side of the bed, folding the jacket on her lap. Without meaning to, Emma's hand snaked across to stroke it. She stopped just in time but her mother had seen the gesture. Snow clasped her hand over Emma's.

"Tell me what happened? It'll help to talk." Her voice was so gentle and soothing Emma could well imagine she could entice blood from a stone.

"She left me," the blonde finally growled turning into her pillow. Her shoulders heaved. "Just _gone_."

"Did you have a fight?" Snow asked, confused.

Emma shook her head. A muffled voice came from the pillow. "We were getting on great, would you believe. Better than great."

"And then she just ...?"

"Well, she left me the jacket."

. . . . . . . . .

Snow examined her daughter surreptitiously. She took in green eyes, bloodshot from crying, the tightness of her mouth. The sadness. So much grief there. Over _Regina _of all people. Again, that woman had a way of getting into everything and leaving ruin in her wake.

She still had not forgotten the indignities of days on end in jail, accused of Kathryn's murder. Or the mayor's constant low-level hostility just clawing at Snow in their years together in Storybrooke, like a misery-charged background hum to her existence. Or, in another life, capturing James to torture _her_. And even before that - forcing her to go on the run thanks to wanted posters filled with a litany of lies.

She knew very well the two Reginas. The mayor and Evil Queen. But she had also seen briefly a third Regina. Kind and warm. Generous. Thoughtful. Brave.

The woman before the rage and vengeance. Snow had not seen her in decades and assumed she would never see her again. It had been a safe assumption. And then Snow had gone to do the laundry.

She noticed Emma's jacket on the hamper and went to move it. Her fingers slipped across a patch of darning and she did a double take. She had lifted the leather up and inspected it, then turned it over to see the most exquisitely detailed lettering. Snow had simply stared, mouth open in astonishment.

She would know that embroidery anywhere.

Before she could stop herself she had rushed up the stairs, only halting at the last minute outside her daughter's door. Uncertain. Would Emma have a clue what this meant? Should she tell her? Snow had sucked in her bottom lip, as the question haunted her. She had no answer even as she opened the door.

. . . . . . .

Emma sniffed quietly, trying to hide it, seemingly waiting for her mother to speak again. Snow's eye fell back to the red material, picking out tiny imperfections that had been darned with a skilled hand.

She had seen Regina embroider at the palace only once, when she was a little girl. And it was obvious even then that her stepmother was singularly gifted in this craft. She had crawled up on the couch beside her, patting down her fluffy light-blue dress with its layers of petticoats and watched, entranced, by the picture she was sewing - a stable and a horse, flecked with myriad shades of brown.

She asked, after a while, why it was the only embroidery she had ever seen Regina do.

Her stepmother had looked so conflicted. As if she wanted to say one thing, and then another, but said nothing at all. Finally she had put down her needle and thread and admitted quietly that she actually hated needlework and that was why Snow had never seen her creations before.

Snow had stared at her with enormous eyes and implored her to tell her why, given she had such a gift.

Maybe she had caught her on a weak day or Regina was just tired, but the brunette had finally told her that her embroidery teacher had been a stern disciplinarian who punished even the smallest mistakes harshly. She decided then she would never pursue it as an adult, Regina had said quietly, but this was an important exception. She brushed the edge of the fine work with gentle fingertips. The cushion was to be a gift for the horse-loving daughter of a visiting monarch with whom Leopold very much wanted to form political ties.

Snow had gone to bed that night wondering who had been so unkind to her stepmother. It had seemed strange because she had never before mentioned having any tutors or teachers growing up and, in fact, had once told her that her mother, Cora, had home-schooled her in all her studies, skills and duties.

It had not made sense.

It had been years before she understood everything. And it all became clear in one horrible split second. That was the day Snow met with a wild-eyed Regina, now her mortal enemy, holding a poisoned apple out to her - almost vibrating with decadent delight at the thought of her plan finally coming to fruition. Adorned, fittingly, all in black, her stepmother had then finally revealed that her _own mother _had killed Daniel.

Snow's eyes had flung open as the awful truth hit home. Time froze as half-remembered moments flooded back, rocking her. She instantly knew that all the oblique references to harsh punishments, unexplained unshed tears in Regina's eyes and the misery she would sometimes see flitting across her stepmother's face had almost certainly come at Cora's hands.

But at that moment Snow had no words to properly explain to the half-crazed woman that little girls raised in love cannot comprehend the lives of others raised in torturous cruelty. That she could not possibly have known what revealing the secret to Cora had meant, because she had never known the face of a monster before. Such things had not existed in her insulated regal world, so how _could _she have known, let alone understood?

However Snow's own rage had been equally magnificent that day. Her time for caring for Regina's emotions was long gone, snuffed out by the wickedness of Regina's deeds.

That was then.

Much later she had woken from her unearthly slumber, reclaimed her true love and time had passed once more, leaching away the more acute sting of Regina's injustices. Snow still raged against her and feared her coming curse, but she now understood the source of her stepmother's tunnel-vision bitterness.

As her belly grew full with her own child, thoughts would sometimes stray to that revelation of Cora's cruelty, and what it must have been like for Regina to suffer in silence, crushed, for years.

As Snow worked away on a baby blanket for her own daughter-to-be, carefully spelling out 'Emma', she would sometimes muse at how inferior her effort was compared to the beauty of her stepmother's skills. She would then always recall how Regina had so sadly admitted why she hated doing it. It stuck in her mind as the first time Regina had ever revealed her life to be anything less than the queenly ideal the child Snow had assumed it was.

It stuck in her mind for another reason, too. Because of what had happened next.

The weeks had gone by and every day Snow would see her stepmother hard at work on the cushion. Sometimes she would join her and just sit and watch the fast and supple fingers create their magic. Occasionally she would chatter to Regina about her day, visiting the stables or seeing Cook in the kitchen. Regina would embroider quietly, stitches flying as the scene's incredible beauty emerged. Sometimes the older woman would ask Snow to pass her a different colour thread, but mostly she would silently sew and say nothing.

Finally the day came when the visiting king arrived. Snow had peeked from behind a curtain as the lovely gift Regina had spent those painstaking weeks on had been presented to a tall girl with a mane of red hair, a spread of freckles and a thin pinched face. She had simply looked at it, sniffed, and not even taken it from Regina's outstretched hands. She turned to her father and asked to be allowed to go out to play, tossing her hair disdainfully in Regina's direction. Snow had watched closely Regina's hurt brown eyes tighten, but the queen had said nothing, merely placing the cushion to one side.

Later that night, Snow had gotten up to get a tumbler of water and had spied Regina in front of a fireplace in her night robes, muttering furiously. And before she could say a word, she had flung the beautiful cushion into the flames.

Her gasp had made Regina turn. She lifted a dagger-like finger and pointed it directly at Snow, eyes red and anguished. "You will tell no one," she hissed darkly. And then she returned to stare at the fiery tendrils enveloping her stunning work.

Snow crept back to bed, deeply disturbed. It was the only time she had ever seen her stepmother looking utterly broken.

Regina had never embroidered anything again. Not even so much as an initial on Henry's shirts.

Until now.

Snow gazed at the lettering on Emma's jacket, admiring how the red of her name on the dark lining had been chosen to exactly match the leather's outside colour.

She fretted about whether she should tell Emma the story. What this had to mean for Regina. She doubted she could do justice in explaining the power of the moment anyway. A tendril of doubt slithered into her mind. Perhaps it was wrong, but if Snow was honest, she believed the best thing that could happen to her daughter right now was to forget Regina as soon as possible. Snow had compassion, but there was a limit. And she could not forgive nor forget the past. She pursed her lips.

Enough of Regina. She lay the jacket back down and said nothing of things best forgotten.

She could see Emma needed desperately to talk. To get whatever had happened to her out of her system. Maybe that would help her move on. Snow cleared her throat.

"Why do you think she repaired your jacket?" she asked.

Emma shrugged.

"Well why do you think she left after she repaired it?"

The blonde clutched her pillow and shook her head.

"I don't know. I really thought we were friends," she finally admitted. She suddenly looked worriedly at her mother at the admission.

Snow's heart broke. She knew that feeling - the sudden withdrawal of friendship from Regina, the betrayal. Emma's pain was a sharp reminder. She squeezed the blonde's shoulder comfortingly.

"It's OK, Em. I knew as soon as I saw the jacket. Both James and I had sort of guessed anyway."

"W-what? _You did?_" Emma's eyes flew to Snow's face, eyes widening.

"Of course," she smiled kindly. "Being out in the wild can create all sorts of strange friendships that wouldn't happen anywhere else. So you felt that you and Regina shared a bond and became friends. I know it's unlikely but it happens."

"Yeah," Emma muttered, her lip curling. "_Friends_."

Snow inhaled softly. That was an odd inflection. But she pressed on. Now for the hard part. "I know this might be difficult to hear, but she was my stepmother for a long time. Em, is it possible that she was ... lying to you? Making you feel like she was your friend? I mean she is a very good actress. Trust me on that."

Emma recoiled as if burnt. "It was _real_," she growled, her eyes filled with hurt. "You think I can't tell the difference? I can."

Snow pulled back a little at the onslaught and began again gently: "I know that you believe that, but this is _Regina _we're talking about. The Evil Queen. She is an excellent manipulator. I know that all too well. I _know _her."

"I know her better," Emma murmured sourly, eyes still flashing.

"I've known her for _years_."

Emma, frustrated, ground out: "Not how _I've_ known her."

A long awkward silence fell between them.

"Did you..." Snow began, eyes the size of saucers. "I mean I thought... Ah..."

She shook her head and tried again. "Are you saying that _you _...and ... _Regina_?..." Her eyes looked beseechingly at Emma.

Emma's face reddened. "Yeah," she confirmed with a whisper.

Snow suddenly leapt to her feet. "Um, I have to, if you'll excuse me for a moment, the fridge, it needs, I have to reorganise, _right now! _Back soon."

She bolted. Light steps echoed down the stairs followed by the unmistakeable moan of the fridge door opening.

Half an hour went by. Snow reappeared at the door, her face a strange shade of grey.

"Hi, uh, sorry. The, um, fridge was looking quite... urgently needing ... _oh Emma, really?_ With _her_?"

The blonde sighed. "Whatever happened to 'We're not judging'?"

"What?"

"On your phone message, you said you wouldn't judge."

"I am in a little shock right now, Em."

"As the fridge can attest."

"Need I remind you of all the horrors that woman has visited on this family? Really, Emma!"

Emma scowled, drew her knees up and wound her arms around them, propping her chin on top. Snow immediately came around beside her and wrapped an arm around her.

"I haven't forgotten what she did," Emma said. "But I believe that the woman I spent a week with, isn't the one you knew."

Snow thought about that. Ever since she'd seen the jacket, she'd thought of nothing else. The possibility of seeing the woman who had rescued her on her horse had tantalised her for years. It had been in her dreams and it had been the cruelest form of torture to discover after her father's death that she probably never existed from the moment Cora had snuffed out Daniel's existence.

It had galled her to learn that years spent bonding with Regina had all been a worthless lie. She had been mocking her, hating her, plotting her death.

Now ... the thought she might still live...somehow?

Snow's heart clenched at the idea. How could it possibly be? It couldn't. Right?

She flicked her eyes to Emma. Only one person seemed to have the answers. And raking over old wounds and vicious slights wouldn't get her any closer to the truth. _But, oh God, why did Emma have to fall for Regina? The woman could be merciless! Cruel. Vicious. _She frowned again and looked at her miserable daughter.

_Not helping._

"OK, no judging," she found herself saying, in spite of grave reservations. "But I am worried. You told me how badly she treated Graham. How is this not Regina repeating a pattern of hurting her ... lovers?" Her eyes squeezed shut as she said the last word, as if that would block out the reality. No such luck.

She exhaled and slid her gaze back up to Emma's face.

"It wasn't the same - she treated me with _respect_," Emma said, looking imploringly at the brunette. "There was so much more to it... so much. There was gentleness. She was nothing like Mayor Mills."

Snow nodded slowly, conflicted. She had been tricked too many times by the many faces of Regina Mills to fall for her superb acting talents. But this was Emma. Emma who was neither easily led nor easily fooled.

"OK, I'm listening. So you want to tell me the whole story again - this time without all the omissions?"

Emma's eyebrows shot up.

"Well leave out the R-rated stuff," Snow smirked. "I'm still your mother, after all."

Emma laughed this time. Snow bumped her with her body teasingly and Emma bumped her back. She looked a little better.

. . . . . . .

The blonde pointed to a sack tossed in the corner of the room.

"In there," she whispered, her voice becoming strained and harsh. "That's what happened."

Snow rose and crouched by the sack on the floor. She had been dying of curiosity but had been too respectful of Emma's space to ask what was in it. She opened the hessian and spotted a canteen. Two apples, bruised and worse for wear. _Ew_. They'd have to be tossed. A pair of old, tan, men's shoes. Supremely ugly. _What on earth?_ A vest. Her fingers felt the texture of fine cotton. She'd seen this somewhere. And not on Emma. _Oh. Right. Regina's._She moved it aside and tried not to contemplate its likely significance. She could find nothing else.

"In the shoe," a wavering voice said from the bed.

Snow went back to the footwear and spied a note folded and lodged deep within. She drew it out and began to read it to herself.

_"Miss Swan, Thank you for saving my life. I hope you enjoyed what I gave you in return. Based on my mother's insinuations, this appeared to be what you most wanted from me. It was a pleasant diversion but, to be clear, this was your infatuation rather than mine. My debt is now repaid in full and I can proceed with my life, free of encumbrances. Look after Henry. - R._

_PS I cleaned your jacket._"

When she finished she put the note down and tried to still her breathing. _Of all the cruel, vicious, nasty ..._

She felt eyes watching her and stilled her face and prepared to calm her voice. It wouldn't help to work Emma back up into the state she had been in these past few days. Even Henry had noticed his mother seemed depressed.

"I imagine Regina was gone not long after this, then?" Snow lifted the note.

"Just left it on the jacket and disappeared in the middle of the night. It was just after ... the first time we'd ever been ... together. I found it in the morning."

Snow's heart was breaking. She'd warned and warned and warned Emma about Regina from the moment she'd run off to save her. But had she listened? Leopards and spots came to mind.

Her eye fell to the note again. She stared. Try as she might to push the niggling thought aside, there was something odd about it.

Curiosity overrode her brain's desire to rant at Regina some more. She frowned and turned to her daughter, who was still hugging her knees mournfully on the bed.

"Emma," she asked softly. "When you and Regina were ... ah ... _you know_..."

The blonde reddened and looked like she would love to bolt, but she just hissed softly "Oh god..." and waited.

"What did she call you?"

"You mean like pet names or sexy stuff?" Emma's face screwed up in embarrassed horror.

"God no," Snow gasped. She rubbed her face, hoping that would magically erase the image of Regina purring sexy epithets at her daughter. _Just... oh lord... a world of no. _

Snow shook her head. "I mean how did she address you?"

"By my name. Emma."

Snow held up the note and pointed at the top of it. "What do you see?"

"_Miss Swan_..." Emma read out, looking confused. "And?"

Snow felt the urge to roll her eyes. Seriously, the heartsick never could see the forest for the trees.

"So why did she begin her letter to you like this?" Snow asked patiently. "Especially if she believed everything in it. Why be cruel? It was unnecessary."

Emma froze. Her face twisted, thinking. Finally she just shrugged helplessly. "Just being a bitch, I guess. You said it yourself, she's Regina."

Snow forced herself not to sigh at her daughter's failure to catch on to the screamingly obvious. "Yes but _why _be a bitch? Regina never does anything without a reason. _ Ever_. And why do it to you, especially since you two had just been so ... close? It makes no sense."

Somewhere her subconscious had begun hollering for Snow to just shut up now. She didn't have to help. She _shouldn't _help. And she certainly hadn't told Emma about the jacket. But one look at the blonde's tortured, grief-stricken face made her ignore her worries and press on. Damn it, her daughter shouldn't have to believe this letter was something she deserved.

"While we're on the topic," Snow drew her finger down to a word and tapped it pointedly, "when have you ever known Regina to be 'free of encumbrances'?"

"What?"

"Well don't you think she is the most burdened person you've ever met? And heavens knows, I've met a few, but Regina Mills is an exceptionally tortured soul. And suddenly announcing she's burden free, you don't _seriously _buy that do you?"

"Um..." Emma blinked back at Snow, eyes growing wider. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that if that part is a lie, and it reads like one to me, don't you think everything in the letter could be a lie, too? I mean you can't possibly think Regina had sex with you purely as a thankyou? This is _Regina! _She would never settle her debts that way."

"I uh..."

"Oh, Em. You really thought she had?"

Emma looked completely lost. "Um, maybe, yeah?"

Snow held out the letter to her, regarding her sympathetically and wondering what made Emma think she was so worthless to unquestioningly accept Regina's blatant deceptions at face value.

"Read it again, and this time, try doing it with a clear head. Try reading it as someone who actually _knows _Regina. Who she is and how she acts," she said and gave her an encouraging smile.

Emma stared at her mother, a flickering of _something _in her eyes. Suddenly Snow swallowed as her subconscious's screaming finally invaded the rest of her brain. She closed her eyes briefly. Her overriding desire to wipe the misery off her daughter's face may have meant never being free of Regina Mills.

The blonde's eyes flicked down to the letter, hope filling the green orbs, pricking with tears. Her trembling hand picked up the paper.

Snow suddenly felt better about her decision. Or at least resigned to it. _Fate will take us where it will_, she decided.

"Well I'll leave you to think about that," she said, rising. "But don't take too long. Granny and Red have waited for you long enough. There's a welcome-back party at the diner tonight. You have to turn up, you're the guest of honour."

Emma was still locked onto the letter, reading greedily.

"Em? Did you hear me? You have two hours. And while we're there tonight you can also fill us all in on what's happening in fairytale land. A lot of people in Storybrooke want to know. Don't keep them waiting."

"Fine," Emma muttered, not looking up as the brunette left.

Snow smiled and closed the door softly.

. . . .

**********************Author's note: SwanQueen tumblr Beatthe0dds has put up an interview with me which discusses The Debt and A Ledger Squared In Blood for anyone who's interested in behind-the-scenes stuff: beatthe0dds.(tumblr)(.com)/interviewjuly2012-scribes  
Just delete the brackets for the link above to work.**  
**  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**A LEDGER SQUARED IN BLOOD**

**By Scribes and Scrolls**

**Author's note: This chapter is early because I'm on holidays for a few days. However I may be a little late on the next one due to a restructure at work that will suck up my time and/or soul. Not sure yet. It's in the lap of the goddesses and the media barons who rule my world.**

**.**

**CHAPTER THREE: SOME PARTY**

"THE PARTY GIRL HAS ARRIVED!" If Emma was hoping for a low-key entrance, Red, bearing wine bottles under each arm and a saucy grin had other ideas. She stuck out one foot to hold open the door as Snow, James and Emma were ushered into Granny's to a table in the centre of the room, amid cheers from semi-inebriated townsfolk, who had clearly started celebrating hours ago.

"What'll it be Em?" Red asked giving her a friendly grin. "Beer, hold the nuts?" Her voice dropped and her eyebrows waggled suggestively.

Emma narrowed her eyes, James looked baffled and Snow looked ready to take the waitress's head off. It was an intriguing expression the sheriff had never before encountered on Mary Margaret. But then again this was not the same meek teacher she had shared a home with, either. Emma was fairly impressed.

Red clearly got the hint because she dropped the smirk immediately, cleared her throat and changed tack: "You must be pretty parched after a few weeks without booze."

_If only she knew._

"Yeah. Beer and keep 'em coming," Emma declared, licking her lips unconsciously. She nudged her chair aside as a merry dwarf danced past, singing too loudly lyrics to a song which was not even playing on the juke box. Correction, karaoke machine. Snow was distracted when the impish man hooked his arm through hers and stole her away for a jovial reel or two.

The sight drew a small smile to Emma's lips. "Henry will be sorry he missed this," she noted.

James leaned over. "Trust me, when these people celebrate you'll be glad we got a babysitter. Besides, I have a feeling there will be some comments tonight that he shouldn't be here for."

Emma exhaled. "Yeah, I expected Regina might come up in conversation."

"She affected a lot of lives, Emma. People want to know what happened to her."

Emma took another deep gulp of beer. _Don't we all._

Her eyes followed Snow having a good-natured debate with the big-eared dwarf who now was trying to convince her to take the karaoke microphone. She suppressed a laugh as Snow virtually tossed it at him as though it were a live grenade and suggested, with a dramatic glower, that he should not test the patience of royalty.

"You seem in a better mood," James observed, watching her from under his lashes.

"Eh, just needed to get out of the apartment for a bit," Emma said neutrally, eyes tracking laughing couples dancing around the room.

From the corner of her eye she saw Ashley finally grab the mike from the warring pair, with Snow looking eternally relieved while wagging a finger at the less-than-sober dwarf.

James glanced at Emma a little doubtfully.

"Snow wouldn't tell me what was wrong," he began. That got Emma's attention. The blonde's eyes swung around and nailed him, warning him off the topic. He lifted a hand. "I know, I know. Secret women's business. But if you decide to share, I've been told I'm a good listener."

"Thanks," Emma said uncomfortably. "But I am about all shared out."

A large, broad-shouldered, grizzled man loomed up beside them at the table, clutching a knitted black beanie nervously. Emma tried to place him. Oh yeah, construction worker. Mikey or Mitchell or something. She'd seen him on the road crew that maintained the town's streets.

"Uh Sheriff, I's wondering, when you was back there, whether you seen what happened to the ogres of the hills clan? North-east ridge. Freddy and Frankie."

Emma looked at him blankly. "The what now?"

"Oh ah, I's just hoping you had news. They're kin. Sorry t'have troubled y'in all."

"Uh sorry, no, I didn't meet any ogres."

"OK right then, ma'am." He left hastily after dipping his head. "Thanks anyways."

"_Ogres_?" Emma hissed in surprise to James. "What the hell?"

"Yeah I meant to warn you - there are plenty of people who want to have a chat with you. They have a lot of questions about how things are in the old world. We have a town hall meeting tomorrow to discuss the plans to go back, but tonight will be more social queries."

As if on cue two more residents appeared at her side begging for information from her travels. She had no clue what either of them were talking about. _Seriously_? Did none of these people remember she had never even lived in their realm?

When they were gone, she turned back to James.

"Will everyone want to return to the fairytale world?"

"Well that's part of what we want to talk about at the meeting. We all decided not to do anything until you got back with news of what has been happening out there. And now you're here they want to start making plans."

"What about you and Snow?" Emma suddenly felt afraid of the profound change that was looming. It scared her. She had only just gotten used to the fact the curse was real. Now there was all this upheaval ahead.

"We have responsibilities, Emma." James said earnestly, meeting her eye. It sounded like he had no choice in the matter. Emma swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.

"And what if I want to stay here?" Emma asked with trepidation, sliding a finger through the condensation on her beer glass.

"Is that what you want?"

"I don't know," Emma bit her lip. "I really don't. What about Henry? Is it even safe for him to go there? I mean there are vicious animals out there as big as my car."

"Um, Em, don't forget he _is_ royalty. He'll be safer than pretty much anyone else. As would you be – as a princess."

Emma stared at him. She vaguely knew this alarming little detail in principle but hearing it was just … too real.

"What if I don't want that … any of that?" she whispered, feeling vaguely horrified.

"No one is going to force you to do anything you don't want to, Em," James said reassuringly. "We're still just at the strategy stage here."

Emma looked darkly into her beer, feeling everything was moving way too fast for her to process. James regarded her for a moment and patted her hand.

"Hey, chin up. This is supposed to be your night. Put all the rest of it out of your head for now and just enjoy being back among your friends."

The blonde drained her beer and decided not to answer that. When she put the glass down a wizened woman in black was standing beside the table whom Emma had never seen before. She was fairly certain she would remember a shrivelled face lacking in, er, _that_ much aesthetic value.

"Sheriff, dear, could you tell an old lady whether the crone Harriet was still in the forest when you went back?"

"Uh… Who?"

"Harriet. She's a witch with the hags on Brewing and Coven Square. By the old marketplace?"

"Um… Huh?"

James intervened. "Maisy, remember Emma never went to the Enchanted Forest, only the Infinite Forest? She didn't get to the marketplace."

"Speak up dear, my ears weren't born yesterday," the old woman said pinching James's cheek with a gnarled old hand. He suppressed a wince and leaned forward.

"EMMA DIDN'T GO TO THE ENCHANTED FOREST, MAISY!"

There was a pause as the woman thought about that. "What about the Three Monkeys Tavern, dear? Is Lucifer still tending bar? He owes me two chicken gizzards and a newt's eye. I suppose he thinks I've forgotten after all this time. He's a slippery one, that one, I'll tell you."

James and Emma exchanged helpless expressions.

"Ah no," Emma finally said. "I didn't see Lucifer." _Well there's a sentence you don't expect to say every day._

"Shame," the crone said with what might have passed as a pout. "He is a sexy beast." She cackled at their expressions. "You're never too old, dears. And there's no such thing as an unlikely romance. But I shouldn't have to tell you that, should I dear?" Now the crone pinned a look on Emma that made her feel like she was caught in a crab pincer.

"Uh…"

"But really, dearie, even I would have had the sense to stay away from the evil one," the old lady sniffed. "My mother warned me off the crazy curse makers. Shame yours didn't do the same."

The crone turned after a significant look at Emma and shuffled away.

"Sorry about that," James shrugged helplessly.

Emma knew her face looked like thunder. She'd somehow conveniently forgotten that rumour had done the rounds in her absence. Her mood wasn't improved by the next visitor.

Grumpy was definitely an early starter in the drinks and debauchery department. In fact Emma was convinced she could smell him long before he reeled up to their table and stuck out his chin pugnaciously. _Hell he was going to have a sore head tomorrow._

"We want to know what you did to the Evil Queen," he began gruffly without preamble, his eyes glinting darkly. His head twitched behind him. A group of men with ruddy cheeks and tall beer mugs were watching closely and their heads bobbed up and down aggressively. "Did you kill the bitch or what?"

The room suddenly dropped a few decibels and it was as though everyone was leaning in to hear the answer.

Emma's instant fury must have been radiating off her because James hastily put his hand warningly on hers and eyed the dwarf. "She did no such thing."

"Well why not? After what _she_ did, me and the boys think the least the twisted sister deserves is a bit of justice."

The way he said it, 'justice' was the last thing on his mind.

Emma leapt to her feet, eyes flashing. "If I did what you had in mind then I'd be no better than whatever you think of her."

"Whatever_ I_ think of her?" Grumpy laughed nastily, tilting his head up to eyeball her. "Sounds like _you_ don't think she deserves to be punished at all. Wanna tell us all why that is?" He actually leered.

Emma wanted to punch his lights out. She tried to surge towards him but James's grip tightened like a vice. "No Em," he whispered softly. "Don't let him goad you."

The crowd had begun edging towards the table in morbid fascination and the ambient noise had dropped so low now only the music machine in the far end of the room could be heard. Around Emma's table all eyes were pinned on her.

She could feel the nasty vibe rising. Last time she had felt this horrible stewing sensation, a mob had been about to head to Regina's mansion for payback. Grumpy was glaring at her with an expression that said he wouldn't be backing down any time soon.

"What did Regina do to _you_ personally?" Emma asked him through gritted teeth. "Is your life really so lousy here?"

James winced. Emma glanced over and saw an expression that said _wrong answer._

Sure enough, Grumpy narrowed his eyes. "I think a better question, sister," he said his voice dropping to a dangerous snarl, "Is what Madame Mayor did to _you_, to have you defending her like this. What _did_ you two get up to all alone these past few weeks, Sheriff? We all want to know." He made it sound dirty, and a couple of his greasy friends snickered at the innuendo.

Emma was almost leaping across her chair in a rage when James suddenly short-circuited her move by jumping swiftly onto the table with surprising athleticism. He waited for it to stop a brief wobble and stood tall, turning, taking in everyone in the room.

His voice was instantly booming and authoritative: "ENOUGH! We have all suffered from this curse, and Emma more than most – she lost her entire family for almost all of her life. She had to grow up in foster homes, without anyone to watch out for her. You can't say that, can you Grumpy? How dare you attack her now with filthy lies! You ought to be ashamed! Along with the rest of you with your snide remarks. Now if anyone else wants to challenge Emma, they'll have to go through me!"

The blonde felt unaccountably warmed by her father's defence of her, but her heart sank at his choice of words. Before she could dwell on it, another voice took her by surprise.

"And me."

Emma turned to see a flinty-eyed Snow suddenly standing behind her, putting her hand on her shoulder.

"And me." Red stepped up next to her, puffing out her ample chest which was barely enclosed in a generous scoop of cleavage, and put her hands on her hips. She looked like a cross between a milkmaid and a superhero.

Suddenly the entire diner began to divide. Before long most of Storybrooke stood behind Emma.

But not all.

Emma examined the faces of the remaining small but angry group of townspeople who clearly had vengeance for Regina on their minds ahead of anything else. Some of them she had known quite well before the curse broke, and it saddened her. She made out Michael, the mechanic whose kids she'd reunited with their father. And there was the grumpy old widow from Milford Lane whose cat she'd rescued countless times from a neighbour's tree. They were muttering, cursing Regina and tossing thinly veiled accusations at Emma. Some were offering disgusting suggestions as to how their former mayor could be dispatched. It was making Emma's stomach curdle.

"No more of this nonsense," Granny snapped, stepping through the divide and standing between the two groups. "This is a night to celebrate the homecoming of the person who BROKE THE CURSE. Not get worked up because she didn't torture Regina to your particular nasty liking. Now this is _my_ diner – you have five seconds to either get into the party spirit or leave. And know that you will not be welcome here again if you go. So, what'll it be? Decide! NOW!"

There were murmurs as the dissenters turned into a huddle. Grumpy was the first to leave, casting a venomous look at Emma and calling out an unpleasant slur on the way past. A few more followed – including the mechanic, Emma noted miserably – but the rest stayed seated while still shooting dark looks her way.

The mood was ruined. Emma felt sick and tired and thoroughly over socialising. She should have just stayed in her room and stared at the wall.

For a moment the sour atmosphere seemed to hang in the room, people talking in hushed tones, uncertain what to do next, or how to break impasse. And then a thin, vaguely melodic, extremely shaky woman's voice took to the karaoke mike.

Emma's head snapped around. Snow was attempting to sing. She looked completely embarrassed and slightly terrified. But Emma had never seen a more adorable sight in her life.

It took all of 10 seconds before everyone had forgotten the fracas and had turned their attention to the brunette holding the microphone in a death grip. Before long Red flounced over and joined in, a little merrier for the wine she had been helping herself to, and some of the better singers in the room also headed over and gave the pair some courage by loudly drowning out their efforts.

Finally James jumped off the table and strode over and began to sing, too. Emma's eyes bugged out as his rich, powerful baritone lifted the roof off. The tension evaporated instantly; everyone relaxed and joined in rowdily - with varying degrees of success at hitting the right notes. And before they knew it, the party kicked off again as the room sang along.

Granny gave a satisfied smile and returned to the bar, humming along to the tune. Emma slumped back in her seat as the pulse of music and the motion of dancers swirled around her.

With everyone distracted, Dr Hopper materialised nervously at Emma's side. "I was wondering if I could have a word, Sheriff?" he asked solemnly.

Emma nodded and he slid into the seat opposite her.

"I pride myself on being really good at reading people," he began. Emma stared at him in confusion. He hesitated.

"What Grumpy said," he whispered softly so no one else could hear, "he wasn't wrong, was he?"

Emma gaped at him but could not hide the blush rising up her neck.

"Look don't worry, I won't tell a soul," he said earnestly. "I just wanted you to know, if you want to talk to someone ... a professional … and someone who knows Mayor Mills and her various … _tactics_ … very well, I'm here."

Emma scowled. _"_I don't think that'll be necessary," she said sharply.

"Look, it's just … well she and I had our confrontations at times. And I know how she can be," he said and looked at her pleadingly. "You're the victim in all this, even if no one else can see it. I want you to seriously consider perhaps you have been through some form of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or even Stockholm Syndrome. Both of which I am more than capable of treating."

Emma glared at him and dropped her voice to a ragged hiss. "You're saying I must be mad or sad if – and it's just an if – I was _with_ Regina? That's just insulting to us both."

"You know sudden displays of anger can also be a symptom of…."

Emma cut him off with a withering glare. "Let me be blunt. I have no medical condition that needs curing. I am not a victim of anything but small-town paranoia, gossip and vendettas."

"Denial is also one of the stages of…"

"Seriously doc?" she leaned forward and shot him a force 10 glare, her fists turning into tight white knotted lumps. "Just shut the hell up. You have _no fucking clue_ what you're talking about."

She threw back her chair and stomped away, enraged enough to just ditch the party and stalk out into the night. She had one foot towards the door when Granny cornered her.

_Ah hell._

She gave Emma a beaming smile.

"Chicken or lamb?"

"Uh what?" Emma looked at her as though she had three heads.

"Which do you prefer, dear?"

"Um, chicken?"

"OK good."

"Why?"

"No reason, dear," she said pleasantly, while jotting down a note. She glanced up and looked Emma right in the eye. "You don't seriously think that woman isn't head over heels for you, do you? Wherever she is. And you don't have to tell me, that's fine," she added conspiratorially.

"What?"

"Please, child. I have known Regina Mills for years. She never gave anyone the time of day, even that sheriff who she was supposed to be knocking boots with in both realms. Not until you turned up. And you're all she could talk about from the moment you arrived. Oh, she plotted and planned, railed and demanded, but from where I sat it sure looked like a whole wallop of wantin' and courtin' to me. You were _all_ that was ever on her mind."

"But she…"

"No buts, dear. Now do you like lilies or roses?"

. . . . . . .

By midnight, Red, despite being the waitress, or maybe because of it, wound up being the drunkest of them all. She had wheeled everyone around the room in one merry stumbling dance after another and had performed an impromptu jig on top of the bar at one point before Granny shooed her off it with a teatowel snap.

When she caught up with Emma she was giving off so many alcohol fumes, the appalled blonde feared the waitress might be flammable.

"You SO did, Regina, I can tell," Red slurred with wide eyes, leaning into Emma's neck. "Grumpy wasn't wrong. I'm so impressed. 'Bout the doing Regina I mean, not Grumpy's rightness," she added helpfully, bloodshot eyes glazing over.

Emma gaped at her in shock.

"The ice queen's quite the catch," Red confessed in a loud stage whisper. "Never had the balls to scale that chilly peak myself. But you …" she stabbed Emma's chest so hard with her finger that the blonde protested with an outraged "Ow!"… "You are the brave one, Emmy. The chosen one. So I'ms with Granny on this. Gots to go after your woman, woman."

That seemed to strike her as funny, because Red then had a fit of giggles.

"Red! _Shit! Shut up!_ And what on earth makes you think Regina and I…" Emma began, then wondered why she was bothering reasoning with a drunk woman.

"Cos you look like you gonna cry every time you say her name or slit someone's throat whenevs someone curses her. So romantical…" she hiccupped. "I so jealous of you. You find love."

Red gathered Emma in a sloppy hug – whether it was congratulatory or commiserating, Emma couldn't tell. She patted the waitress's back helplessly.

Snow intercepted Red from then attempting to haul her daughter off for another energetic jig, leading her away to a quieter corner. "I'm so sorry about tonight," she told Emma softly. "What with Grumpy and everything … I didn't mean for you to have face all that so soon."

"No, it's OK," Emma sighed. "I knew I'd have to deal with them all sooner or later. And given what Regina did, they're actually surprisingly more polite than I expected."

"Well, for now," Snow agreed. "There's the town hall meeting tomorrow though, and that should be fairly interesting."

Emma nodded. "Hey, um, thanks for rescuing me through song earlier," she grinned. "My Heart Will Go On? Bold choice."

Snow flushed as red as was humanly possible. "You owe me. Thank goodness James has the most booming voice – he could drown anything out."

"Speaking of James," Emma said, "Did you hear what he called the idea of me and Regina being together?" Her voice was shaking. "He thinks it's _filthy_!"

"Oh Em... A lot of things were said in anger tonight. Maybe later, when he's calm, we can break the news that …"

"What? That I slept with the Evil Queen?" Emma hissed, lip curling. "He'll love that. The same woman who held him captive for months? Yeah, he'll come around."

Snow winced.

"Although that's not strictly speaking correct," Emma said fiercely. "I didn't sleep with the Evil Queen."

Snow's head snapped up, looking far too hopeful. Emma glared.

"To be clear, so there's no confusion: I made love with Regina. The woman. Because I love her."

Snow looked down, clearly shaken, although not shocked. She must have suspected how Emma had felt.

"I think we should give him some time," she said. "It's a lot to process." Snow caught Emma's dark look. "I'm sorry but it is. And love is a … big word."

"I know," Emma sighed raggedly. "But I don't use it lightly. Hell even Cora knew I loved her."

"_What_? How could she know that?"

"She saw it in my heart. She's the Queen of Hearts after all."

"When did…? Emma! I think you left out a few vital details in your story. The Queen of Hearts holds one of the most powerful and potentially destructive positions in the old world. If Cora is in charge of people's hearts ... Oh God, this is a disaster."

"Uh… OK."

"Anything else you want to tell me?" Snow eyed her.

"I spoke to a wolf pack that worships you. And I almost got attacked by a deathclaw."

"Oh god," Snow said weakly. "I think I should sit down." She sank into a chair.

"I also now know how to defeat most magic attacks."

Snow's eyes grew enormous. "You have The Knowledge? The most sacred secrets that all witches and wizards take a solemn oath to defend with their lives?"

Emma shrugged. "Regina trained me."

"Oh." Snow said in wonder. "You do realise that makes her the first magic practitioner to ever break their oath? She will be hunted and cursed for that if anyone ever finds out."

Emma stared. _Shit? Seriously?_

"So," Snow looked at her worriedly. "Anything else?"

"Queen Cora and King George are in an alliance. He supplies the army, she supplies the magic. And they probably sleep together."

"Emma! An alliance between those two … is _shocking_ news. We… Oh no!

"There's more," Emma said hesitantly. She paused anxiously and ran her hand along the back of her neck. Stalling. Finally she admitted in a devastated whisper: "Regina went back to Cora. I saw them together at her castle."

Her mother stared, eyes unable to contain their shock. "Oh Em. That is … really very … so … Oh my God. We have to… where's James…"

Snow looked around in vain then brought a feeble hand to her temple, frowning. She flicked her eyes back up to her daughter. "I swear if you tell me next Regina got you pregnant, I will have a stroke."

Emma paled. "Please tell me that isn't possible."

"Really Emma, do I have to explain the birds and bees to you?" Snow asked, eyebrows rising.

"I ah… well she is super magical… I thought… Oh, you were kidding?"

"Em, even your precious Regina is not _that_ impressive."

Emma smirked. "You just admitted Regina is impressive."

Snow paused. "I suppose I did. Don't get used to it," she gave a tiny smile to take the sting out. "Now where is that husband of mine? If he's discussing battle tactics with the fairies again…"

As if on cue, James reappeared and gave them both a fond smile. "Had a good night?" he asked, eyes twinkling.

"Well on a scale of doing an autopsy, to the Spanish Inquisition, I'd say 'sure'," Emma said drolly.

His eye fell to his wife. "How about you?"

Snow huffed. "I just discovered we're going to need to convene a war cabinet to discuss some disturbing new intelligence, and that our 28-year-old daughter and mother of one doesn't know how babies are made."

"Hmm," James said, eyes lifting to Emma's and sliding back to Snow's. "So you both had a good night then."

Emma humphed in mock outrage. "Can we go home yet?"

"Yes," Snow said. "God yes. A world of yes."

As they were leaving, Emma asked curiously: "So any idea why Granny wants to know what flower arrangements and entrees I prefer?"

. . . . .

**Author's note: Pigeon feeding would be warmly welcomed and appreciated. **


	4. Chapter 4

**A LEDGER SQUARED IN BLOOD**

**By Scribes and Scrolls**

Author's note: So, the goddesses whose lap my life was in and the media barons who rule my working world smiled on me this week. Despite my fears, here tis the next chapter, right on schedule. Enjoy.

**.**

**CHAPTER FOUR: GATHER 'ROUND**

Emma could feel Regina's eyes burning into her back, eyeing her bare ass and assessing her naked, sweat-tinged limbs.

She bent over the sink and unsteadily placed the cup under the flow of water, her voice croaking out: "You are unbelievable. Don't you ever take a break or need a refuel?"

"You have no idea how excellent my stamina is," the throaty voice purred from the bed. She was like liquid sex, all honey and slippery and...

Emma heard a noise and turned, and swallowed compulsively at the sight.

Regina Mills had spread her smooth olive-skinned legs far apart and was staring at her, eyes dark pools of chocolate. The dying fire and flickering candle lit her in soft, warm hues, and the blonde was transfixed, watching as the mayor slowly slid fingers teasingly between her legs and dipped them into the moisture glistening there.

For a moment all she could hear was the wet sucking noise, the in and out sounds of fingers sliding, and a low moan, followed by deep sighs from the brunette regarding her from under hooded eyes.

Emma gulped down the water and slammed the cup on to the sink, her nipples tightening and insides clenching. She suddenly discovered despite hours of sensual pleasures already, she was ready to go again. Christ, Regina Mills was like a concentrated aphrodisiac. Pure lesbian heroin.

She made one step towards Regina who gave a small teasing half smile and stopped her in her tracks. "No dear. Just stay there. Enjoy the floorshow," she purred.

Her head tilted back, and she spread her legs wider, Emma now able to see the liberal juices coating dark curls. Regina's chest was now rising and falling quickly, her back arching off the bed, fingers dancing and curling swiftly.

The blonde swallowed. Watching Regina come undone was the most erotic sight imaginable. She almost felt like she was intruding, seeing her gasp and exhale breathy sighs, her breasts, topped by rock-hard nipples, moving in time with her fingers.

There was an abrupt pause in her fingers' dancing, and Regina gave a long, primal groan, staring right into Emma's intense, fixed eyes. She cried out sharply "Emma," and then sank back to the mattress. Slowly she withdrew glistening fingers.

Then she spoke, her voice a soft and sultry demand.

"Now come here."

. . . . . .

Emma's eyes snapped open and felt her breath catch in her throat. She scowled, recognising after a moment of confusion she was back in Snow's spare room. A dull incessant ache reminded her she had her own needs to take care of. Again.

The dreams were always there now. A sexy slice from their afternoon and night together, a tease and taste of what she'd had. Never the same moment, but always the same outcome: Emma waking up with such longing and wanting, and desperately needing to come.

It didn't take long. It never did. A few well-placed strokes on her already drenched folds and aroused centre, and she had the less-than-satisfying, business-like end to the passionate dream.

She had begun to hate waking up like this, in such a pitiful state. The memories felt so real, and the pain of reality so raw.

The sheriff flung back her soaked sheets and glanced at her alarm clock. Still far too early. She cracked the door and heard the shower running. And a muffled giggle. _Great, her parents were having yet another round of pre-dawn shower nookie. _

They were nothing if not predictable.

She grimaced and pulled on her jeans, deciding a coffee might work where a cold shower was being denied her.

. . . . . .

The blonde leaned heavily on the door outside the apartment and finally exhaled as loudly as she wanted to inside. Living with your roomie was one thing. Living with your parents who are one moment getting sexy and the next plotting a war in a fairytale realm is quite another.

She was exhausted after staying up half the night, post-party, giving every shred of intel she could think of that she had picked up about the new world order. Now, barely four hours later, and one unsatisfying self-help effort later, she really needed a hit of Granny's coffee and a whole lot of shut-the-hell-up from the world.

She glanced down the stairs and frowned when she saw a shadowy figure hunched over, sitting on the bottom one. Waiting.

She made her way down and had a veritable glower across her features when she recognised who it was.

"You've got a lotta nerve showing up here today," she said darkly, leaning against the wall.

Grumpy looked at her uncomfortably. He was fairly green around the gills, his eyes were bloodshot, and he had pulled his beanie down low.

He shrugged. Then looked pained as if the movement had jerked his already sore head.

"Whaddya want Leroy? I'm sure even the mob you stirred up is still sleeping off their hangovers."

"Don't call me that. It's a fake name from a fake life," he grumbled. "And I'm here cos I want a coffee."

"Huh?"

"Granny's cut me off."

"Oh." Understanding dawned.

"She said you're the only one who can get me back in her good graces."

Emma stared at him. "I repeat my previous statement. You've got a lot of freaking nerve."

His jaw clenched. "Look, sister, I know I was outta line last night. I had a bit more Dutch courage in me than usual. But I never meant to turn the wolves on you. It was talking about _her_ that made me see red."

"Look I know everyone's pretty dark on Regina for different reasons. What's your beef?" Emma slid down on to a step beside him and waited.

He scowled as he gathered his thoughts.

"She took the happy endings. Everyone's," Grumpy said sourly. "I know what that's like to lose happiness. I even tried to get mine back when my memories hit but it was too late. The girl I was sweet on said she'd cried enough over me a lifetime ago and wasn't going through it again."

His face screwed up in anguish. Emma stared at him, finding it hard to imagine the angriest individual she'd ever known as capable of love.

"So," he turned to fix eyes on her, "I'd say it's personal when everyone gets put through shit like that. But, seriously, I didn't mean to turn it on you. Especially seeing you're Snow's kid."

"What's that got to do with anything?" Emma asked, puzzled.

"Me and Snow and the boys are tight. She had our back and we had hers when she was being hunted by the Evil Queen. The same woman you don't reckon needs to be punished." He glared at her.

Emma simply glared back. "Trust me when I say she's probably in her own hell where she is right now."

That gave him pause for thought. "Where's that?"

"Regina's under Cora's roof."

"Who the hell is Cora?"

Emma started in surprise. She'd just assumed everyone in the fairytale world knew all the others. In hindsight, she supposed that was as ridiculous as everyone in Boston knowing everyone else.

"Her abusive, psycho, witch mother - who is way worse than anything you thought of Regina. I saw the way she treated her daughter and it wasn't pretty."

Grumpy processed that. "And they've teamed up now? What the hell's that about?"

Emma rested a hand on her head. "I seriously have no idea. And I have spent a lot of time trying to figure it out."

He snorted. "In my experience, explaining herself isn't high on the Evil Queen's priorities."

"No, it's not. She just left," Emma growled and then felt the tears spring to her eyes.

Grumpy stared at her closely, a hint of sympathy flicking past his eyes. "So we all got royally screwed by Regina then."

_If only he knew. _

She eyed him bleakly, wondering if he was aware of the double entendre, but the man simply stared back at her glumly.

She decided to change the subject.

"I don't suppose you've heard of King George then? Cora's in an alliance with him."

That got the dwarf's attention. Rage crossed his face.

"That cruel bastard, oh yeah, I know him. He killed one of my best friends." Grumpy rubbed his head, digging into the beanie with his fingers. "Stealthy was the nicest guy you'd ever wanna know."

"I'm sorry," Emma said. They fell into a silence.

"If Cora's as bad as you're saying," Grumpy said suddenly, "an alliance with King George is really bad news, sister. He does a lot of nasty stuff. Runs a silver mine off slave labour. The man is obsessed with wealth. That's how me and the boys know him. He asked us to work in his mines because of our skills. When we refused, he tried to press gang us. We ran and I was the slowest and wound up in his dungeon."

"Cora is a powerful witch," Emma said thoughtfully. "So George won't need slaves any more for his mines to get money."

"That bastard would never free anyone under his control. I guarantee he'd just press them into service somewhere else. He loves having an army to show off. They're probably soldiers now. He kept talking about growing his kingdom when I was in the dungeon. Well now he can keep expanding his realm indefinitely if he has a ruthless witch in his arsenal."

"So he'll be planning to take over surrounding villages, then?" Emma mused. "I can see why Snow and James are so keen to break up that alliance. Apart they are much weaker than together."

"Yeah. I suppose that's what they'll want to talk about at the town hall meeting."

Emma shrugged. "Probably. I was up half the night going over what I know." She yawned again as she thought about it. "Damn, I can see why sleep deprivation is used as a form of torture," she sighed to herself.

"You know," Grumpy inserted conversationally, "Being deprived of coffee could also be seen as a form of torture."

He looked at her hopefully.

"Are you sorry you tried to turn half of Storybrooke against me then?" Emma asked sternly.

He looked down at his boots. "You know the answer to that."

"You gonna do it again?"

"Depends how drunk I get," he muttered. She narrowed her eyes. "Fine, OK. Shit. I'll talk to Michael and the others. We were all a bit deep in the cups last night, and were comparing miseries when you showed up. And we didn't really want Regina slaughtered, just actually sorry for what she did."

"Well if you really are 'tight' with Snow, you have to know she wasn't pleased with what you did to her daughter, right?"

His face fell and it was at that moment Emma could see the loyalty and affection he had for her mother. "Yeah, I thought about that this morning. I was gonna say sorry to her too, later_. After coffee_."

"Still waiting for you to properly say sorry to me, first," Emma snorted. She was teasing him now and let a hint of a grin peek out.

Grumpy's mouth twisted into a rare smile. "Yeah alright_. I'm sorry_. There! Now can we get my caffeine hit?"

He gazed at her so anxiously that Emma laughed.

"Alright, come on. Let's go smooth things over with Granny."

. . . . . .

Emma took one look at her bed and flopped with a happy sigh. She had finally gotten her shower and now planned to get a good few hours sleep in before the stupid town hall meeting. She probably shouldn't have had that coffee with Grumpy given she was both exhausted and wired at the same time.

She heard a tiny knock and then her door push open. _Geez, does no one care about privacy around here?_

"Emma?"

She rolled over and cracked her eyelids. "Hey kid. What's up?"

Henry looked at her guiltily and that caused her to sit up a bit and gesture to the end of her bed. "Pull up a seat."

He bounced onto her bed and looked everywhere around the room except for her direction. Now she knew something was wrong.

"Come on, spit it out."

Henry crossed his legs and sighed. "Last night after the party, I heard you all talking, when I was sposed to be asleep."

Emma's eyebrow lifted and she tried to remember what they'd covered. Which was pretty much everything except her and Regina's relationship, thank God.

"Come on kid, you shouldn't be eavesdropping. That was for adult ears only."

"I heard you saying Cora was mean to Mom. And your mom said she must have escaped the curse by being in Wonderland and that she did deals with King George at his castle in the Infinite Forest cos it wasn't touched by the curse, either."

Emma nodded. "Yeah. Regina only attacked the Enchanted Forest. So what? Why do you look like someone stole the last milkshake?"

Henry hesitated. "Emma you told me Mom had gone home. Was 'home' to Wonderland or the Infinite Forest? Was home with Cora who was cruel to her?"

Emma swore inwardly. _Hell_.

Her silence was damning and Henry stared at her, hurt. "You told me she was fine now! How can she be fine living with someone who is mean? You _lied_ to me!"

Emma looked at those big eyes and trembling, fierce chin and wondered what she could tell him. Her gut hurt when he put it like that.

She looked down at her hands which she realised she was wringing together. She forced herself to relax them. "It wasn't that simple. It was her choice to go."

"Why would she choose to go to someone who was mean to her? That's stupid!" He glared at her as though he didn't quite believe her and Emma sighed.

"I know, kid. It doesn't make much sense to me either. Look, I didn't tell you because I didn't want to worry you about something that can't be undone."

"Emma," Henry began disbelievingly, "You're the White Knight. You can undo stuff!"

"I did go and check on her once," she said defensively and wondered who she was trying to convince. "To make sure she hadn't been, I dunno, kidnapped or something. She seemed to have free will from where I was sitting, that's for sure."

She frowned at the memory. Henry stared at her morosely and looked unwilling to budge. He crossed his arms.

"You were supposed to look out for her. You promised you would protect her!"

"It's a bit hard to protect someone who doesn't want to be protected. Henry - she didn't want my help."

Henry shook his head at her and frowned. "Didn't you listen to what I said when you first went after her? She gets stubborn and real mad when she's afraid."

Emma stared, her throat suddenly going dry.

"That's just Mom being Mom," he continued, his voice rising. "She pretends she doesn't want help even when she needs it. Sometimes she shouts real loud or runs away but you can't give up on her! _Why did you give up on her?_"

"I told you I saw her and she looked ... Ah..." Emma paused. Fine wasn't exactly the word.

Henry peered at her. "Whatever she looked like you have to know Mom's real good at pretending. _Right_?" he whispered. "She is a politician."

Emma processed that, her mind going in a million directions. She thought back to what she had seen. The hand clasped over Cora's.

_She is a politician. Really good at pretending._

"So," Henry said hopefully, sensing a shift in his mother's expression, "Now will you go and save Mom?"

. . . . . .

FOUR HOURS LATER

Emma sat on the stage, a tired look on her face, wishing the hell she could get some of that shut-the-hell-up she'd wanted at the start of the day. She was starting to have an appreciation for just how smoothly Regina had run her council meetings, if this rabble was the alternative. Although having an unofficial dictatorship probably helped keeping the baying mob on a leash.

They had been at it for two hours. Snow and James, seated beside her, did most of the talking. Every now and then she would be called on to expand on some point about what she had seen or heard.

She eyed the seething masses - and that's what they were, seething - well those who weren't hungover, that is. Her green eyes fell to the row of seven short men with matching dark glasses, and an equally pained-looking waitress towering over them one seat along.

Poor Red looked like she had crawled through Regina's hedges backwards. Her hair was sticking up mournfully and she was holding her head on a very strange angle as though it was too heavy for her neck. She clearly did not do hangovers well. The row of eight miserable souls was a most unhappy one, to be sure.

Emma's mind wandered some more. She had been startled to discover a woman she had known as a nurse was actually being called on for tactical and magical information. It turned out she was an actual fairy, of all things.

"All in favour?"

"AYE," said the room.

Emma started. "Aye," she added a little late, when Snow shot her a pointed look.

"All opposed?"

Silence.

Emma wondered what she had just agreed to. She looked down at her boots, wishing this could be over so she could crawl back into bed.

"Next order of business, destroying the alliance between King George and Cora."

Emma sat up. Snow had her complete attention.

"For those who don't know," the brunette began, "Cora is Regina's mother, and a highly skilled, dangerous witch. She has formed an alliance with King George, who is almost certainly planning on expanding his realm using brute force, backed up by magic. The added complication is Regina has now joined Cora's house which possibly places her magic at the disposal of the so-called 'evil two' - making for a potentially devastating triumvirate."

Emma gaped. _Well when they put it like that... Shit!_

"James and I met with the war council this morning and agreed destroying the alliance has to be the first priority, above everything else. Including resettling the Enchanted Forest. We will need volunteers in all areas of expertise, including military and magic.

"George does not have enough wealth without Cora to fund his own army, let alone a growing one. And she cannot do much prolonged destruction without his soldiers. We must drive a wedge between them. This may not be easy as we have intelligence they are also romantically involved."

Snow paused for breath and flicked a glance to her daughter. Emma was still digesting the triumvirate threat. Would Regina really throw her magical might behind those two bastards?

As if reading her mind, someone called out: "What about Regina! We have to get her, too!"

"Regina is not our top priority," James said calmly. "Cora and George have both displayed aggressive intentions. She has not. Yet."

"The curse was pretty freakin' aggressive if you asked me!" another voice called out from the din. Emma squinted to see who had said it but couldn't.

"We have to stop her!" a third voice, a woman's.

Emma started to get an uneasy feeling about where this was going.

"Regina's dangerous, too!"

That was it.

The sheriff leaped to her feet and fixed the crowd with an outraged stare. She put her hands on her hips and glared, waiting for everyone to shut up.

"Listen to me," she growled. "I have seen Cora in person and what she's capable of. It's hard to miss it when she's raining down fireballs and frost daggers and mini tornadoes at you. And she is a real piece of work, trust me. She makes Regina Mills look like a Sunday school teacher. When I left the Infinite Forest, Regina had no plans for expansion or aggression of any kind against anyone."

Well, that much was true, in that she hadn't voiced any.

Snow caught her eye and gave a slightly sceptical look but said nothing. Emma blinked and continued. "And I saw the way Cora treated her daughter and I am telling you there's no love lost there. So the solution is obvious."

A silence fell.

Emma sucked in a deep breath. "Everyone else goes after George and Cora. I go after Regina and try to talk to her, convince her to join our side."

The groans and roars of disbelief were instant and furious. Snow and James had matching looks of appalled astonishment. Archie seemed about to have a coronary. There were only three people in the whole crowd who nodded. Granny. Red. And ... Grumpy. Emma blinked at him in surprise.

Then he got to his feet and slowly walked to the stage, lifting his arms to quiet the crowd.

"Shuddup," he finally barked. "It makes sense. If Mills had wanted to attack us, she'd have done it when the curse broke and she got her magic back. She had weeks to hurt the sheriff over there and didn't. So it stands to reason she wouldn't attack her if she went to pay her a little visit. What'll it hurt anyway? Most she can do is tell the sheriff to go to hell. Or kill her. Which, we've already established, she doesn't seem inclined to do."

"But, Grumpy," James interrupted, "We could go as a force to see her ..."

"Bull," he said. "Put that woman's back to a corner and she kicks like a demon. We've all seen it. Talk to her. It's the best shot. And you know my views on her, so you know I'm not being naive. If her mother is as bad as all that, we're gonna need a witch of Regina's power on our side. And who is the only one in Storybrooke Regina could stand to be around?"

"Sidney Glass!" a wag called out. Everyone laughed. The man hadn't been popular for his obsequious lap-dogging to Regina. So when he was discovered in a secret mental ward cursing her name and vowing to run off to Boston, no one mourned his absence.

But it was obvious to all who Grumpy was referring to and it seemed there were far too many knowing looks in the hall for Emma's liking.

She reddened. Was it really such common knowledge Regina actually liked her under all that bluff and bluster? Was she the only one who never noticed behind all their fiery encounters that there could be something _else_?

The crowd was murmuring now, but the anger had withered out. Grumpy turned and trudged over to her. "They'll back you now," he muttered in her ear.

"Thanks," she whispered back.

"Don't thank me yet. I just got you halfway there. Though you're out of your mind if you ask me."

"Then why help?"

"I owed you one. And like I said before, I think people should have their happy endings." He looked at her significantly then turned and walked off the stage.

_Holy crap._ Emma watched his retreating form, suddenly warmed.

Snow leaned across and whispered: "Em, are you sure about this? I mean I agree with all that has ... happened, you are the best person to reach her. But are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Emma said firmly and nodded.

She watched as her mother turned to her father and they had a low conversation out of her hearing.

Snow finished and stood before the crowd.

"We agree to Emma's plan," she began and waited while an excited hubbub began anew. The noise died down when Snow put up one hand. "The meeting is adjourned. Would the war council stay behind and we'll work out details on the George and Cora plan. The Blue Fairy will take names for volunteers for our assault. Emma and I will work out tactics for getting to Regina. Red and Granny are you OK with being scouts?" she paused and saw them nod. "And Dr Hopper, where are you?"

Archie stood.

"Can we borrow you for non-combatant liaison and child minding, please? For those whose parents commit to the assault?"

"Of course," he said and inclined his head, resuming his seat.

Emma gaped. She hadn't even thought of that. The matter-of-fact way Snow mentioned it told her this was not the first time it had come up as an issue, and that everyone in the room seemed OK to have their kids babysat during a war. It reminded her yet again how out of water she was in this world.

Emma edged over to her mother. "What about Henry," she hissed. "Where will he be?"

"With all the other children at our castle, of course," Snow said. "He will be quite safe and guarded like the others."

"We could leave them here."

Snow shook her head. "It's too risky if we lost access to Storybrooke. Parents fight better knowing their children are safe. And not out of reach."

"Uh..."

"Trust me."

Well hell... Emma had no comeback for that.

The crowd started dispersing and lines were forming in front of a table the Blue Fairy had set up.

James called out: "Don't forget to state any specialty skills you might have on the form. It'll help with planning."

Emma tuned him out as he continued his instructions and slid her eyes around, astonished at how orderly things were for a group of people who had just committed to go to war. They didn't even look remotely fazed.

Snow came over. "Are you sure you're OK, Em? I know this will be your first real battle."

The blonde had to repress the urge to laugh into the face of the woman who looked like demure Mary Margaret, but who sounded like a hardened veteran.

"This is really happening, isn't it?" she asked her mother, feeling oddly adrift.

"Yes it is," she replied firmly. "Tomorrow we go home. And then we take back the realm."

. . .

**A/N: Next chapter - Regina, Regina, Regina. Her POV, and all those maddening questions answered. **


	5. Chapter 5

**A LEDGER SQUARED IN BLOOD**

**By Scribes and Scrolls**

**A/N: And here tis Chapter 5, a little early. This is my first ever pure Regina POV in any story. In The Debt I only flirted with her viewpoint a tiny, tiny bit because I didn't want to give away any of the plot. But here is 100% Regina, unplugged.  
**

**.  
**

**CHAPTER FIVE: THE OTHER ONE**

**.**

TWO WEEKS AGO

Regina put the leather pants on first. In the small bathroom, lit only by a feeble, flickering candle burnt low, the door tightly shut, she sat on the toilet seat lid and edged on the black material. Water splashed on the taut ebony skin but she ignored it and tugged ever higher. Past ankles, knees ... now she stood ... up muscled thighs and bare hips. Finally, she fastened the pants at her waist and looked down over her bare breasts at the sleek effect. A younger, vainer Regina would have been mightily pleased.

The boots were next. Tall and intimidating yet surprisingly comfortable, they made a bold, mocking statement. They took considerably longer to pull on. And the effect, once they were clawed all the way up her thighs, was immediate. Regina stared at herself sardonically. It seemed surreal after all these years to wear the black beauties again. These were beyond mere "screw-you-minions" boots. They screamed of domination, power and control. Maleficent had coveted the hell out of them the first time she'd seen her ostentatiously preen in them. Regina gave a thin smile. She had been so obnoxious back then.

Finally, the corset.

More water splashed and Regina, irritated, smoothed the droplets away. Usually she would put this creation on with the help of servants. She eyed it a little anxiously before figuring out how to do it alone.

The material immediately bit harshly into her ribs, pressed across her heart and pushed her breasts tightly together and up. The pain ... she'd forgotten that. She had been used to it becoming a background dull accompaniment to the life of being a queen.

Correction, she amended, as she eyed the dramatic finished look in the mirror, an _evil _queen. And that's what she was once more.

The back of her hand wiped away the last of the water threatening to spill from her eyes. _No more of that_, she growled to herself. _Evil queens have no hearts. And they certainly do not cry. _

She smoothed her hands down the soft material stretched tightly across her thighs. This used to make her feel so powerful. She could almost affect a strut while merely standing. She needed only pivot a boot just so, strike a pose, and watch the pitiful lowerlifes scurry or drop dutifully to their trembling knees.

She paused. She realised she was different now. She no longer cared for scurrying minions, pitiful or otherwise. She may as well be donning a disguise, given this Queen Regina was clearly a fraud. Had Storybrooke somehow tamed her? Or was it _her_?

She slid her hands up the corset and tried to take a deep breath, testing its limits. Her cleavage swelled and she winced at the fierce instant bite into her ribcage. _Damn whalebone. _

It used to be so worth it. She recalled a time when her dark, predatory sexuality would give her a heady thrill. How many times had she bewitched some lithe young thing into her bed chambers with a devillish smile, dangerous, glittering eyes and a barely decent bodice? Only to later throw them out bare candlemarks later when the boredom set in.

_Emma never bored her._

The thought slipped out before she could stop it and Regina forced herself by sheer will not to follow where it led.

She quietly opened the bathroom door.

The sight of her nude lover sprawled wantonly across the sheets made her pause. Her eyes travelled across the lean limbs, the muscles she had delightedly nibbled and nipped and the curves and swells she had stroked possessively.

An old quote came to mind and it meandered poisonously around her head. This time it was a husk, stripped cleaner than bleached bones of its usual triumphalism.

_"I will destroy your happiness."_

And she would, Regina knew, eyes sliding sorrowfully over the trusting body curled around a tangle of sheets. But at least she would be alive.

Regina Mills had made plenty of mistakes in her time but getting another person who loved her killed was not going to be one of them.

She knew her mother's interest in threatening Emma would last only as long as the sheriff was entwined around Regina's body ... or her heart. And Cora really didn't care which of these things intrigued her daughter, only that one of them did. The woman had uncanny perception. It was frankly terrifying.

As Regina found a pen and paper and snuck back into the bathroom, carefully shutting the door, she realised her lifetime's experience at inflicting cruelty would, ironically, be useful at this moment. It was a delicate letter to compose. The key was balance. If it was too vicious, the blonde would suspect another motive at play. Too gentle and she would never leave, instead chasing after her like a devoted puppy right into the jaws of hell.

And certain death.

She wondered whether Emma knew how lucky she had been in fighting her mother. She had caught her off guard, and Cora had already expended far too much energy teleporting about the realm that day to have the stamina to hold her off for extended periods. Any other day, Emma would have been another broken soul, crumpled in Regina's arms, while Cora cackled on about how it was all for Regina's own good.

She felt a dark rage slick past her eyes.

Never again.

Regina firmed her jaw. Emma had given her a most unexpected gift. Hope. For the first time she had seen her mother as weak and human. She intended to use the gift well: To rid her life of a cruel toxicity she had never before dared believe she could destroy.

Oh, she knew she was no equal magically to her mother, but she had other skills now.

Still, Cora Mills was no fool. Regina would have to be careful. On the other hand, her mother often underestimated her. She remembered her as a naive foolish teenager. Weeping. Broken. Perhaps she was still broken, but even the broken can destroy when sufficiently motivated. When they _believe _they can.

Whether it took a month, a year, or a decade, Cora would be stopped. She would never threaten her or hers ever again.

Regina shut her eyes briefly and felt her lips twitch coldly in a parody of a smile. Time for the debt to be repaid. The ledger to be squared. She couldn't give Emma back her childhood. But she could make sure no more harm came to her or her family from the destructive House of Mills.

She folded her cruel letter, satisfied it would do its job. Emma would scamper home safe, to look after Henry. She'd be wrapped in the quivering arms of loving parents. Regina would be alone. But she would also be free to do what must be done without fear or distraction.

And, maybe later, when it was done, she could reach out to her again? Maybe...

Regina frowned and crushed that line of thought with a sour grimace. Who was she kidding? It seemed her heart and hopes could be crueller than any letter. Some wishes could never be.

She crept out and back to the bed and dropped to her knees. She slid Emma's jacket out from under it. Her eyes flicked up. She was in perfect line with Emma's naked sleeping body. She could smell her natural earthy scent, see her beautiful hair fanned out, and the flutter of long lashes on cheeks.

Her gaze dropped down to the red leather. Such a simple garment, yet it had changed her world.

Her mind shifted. She hadn't touched a needle and thread in decades, and her surprise at finding a sewing kit at the back of the wardrobe among her father's old things was only surpassed by the fact it contained an exuberant red cotton that matched Emma's jacket.

She had initially hidden the jacket on their first day together so she wouldn't have to look at the ugly thing. Then the very thought of it stinking out her cottage had gotten the better of her so she had taken it for a wash while Emma was checking her messages the next day.

Her fingers had fallen on some of the imperfections. She had held it up, dripping wet, and eyed the tiny tears and holes, the loose seam. Her fingertips had run across them expertly; her trained eye easily analysing the faults. She knew immediately how to fix it, make it almost perfect. So she had hung it out in a secluded spot and left it while she considered what to do.

The following day she retrieved it and secretly began to sew. She had thought the project would be a gift for when they parted ways - Emma off to a new life with Henry; Regina, her exile. It was just a small something for the woman who, if she was honest, was beginning to greatly amuse her. She hummed as she worked - an old faerie's lullaby she'd picked up years ago, as her mind automatically retrieved how to do the stitches so finely as to leave little evidence of repair.

Shock tore through her the moment she discovered an embroidered 'E' lay completed under her fingers, and she stopped sewing at once and stared. Her fingers shaking, she put down the needle and thread, and returned the jacket to its hiding spot. She couldn't for the life of her work out why she'd done that.

A day later she found herself pulling it out again and examining her lapse in judgment. Before she could stop herself she had added a pair of 'M's to the 'E', finally followed by the 'A'. And then, fully committed, she completed the 'SWAN' in an exuberant flourish. She had gazed at the handiwork in astonishment. Even she could see she had made the words so very beautiful, more exquisite than any needlework she had ever done before.

She stared unblinkingly as the truth slowly dawned. She may as well have tattooed Emma's name on her own bare breast.

The knowledge filled her with dread. Regina Mills did _not _do love. And she certainly didn't do the unrequited variety. She promptly stashed the jacket and fretted over what to do with it. Surely Emma would take one look at it and see what it revealed? Perhaps the solution was not to give it to her at all?

But Emma loved the revolting garment.

The brunette still hadn't made up her mind when Cora paid her a house call.

How terrified Regina had been. She was completely unprepared, believing herself well hidden thanks to the crone's spell.

She had trembled like a brittle autumn leaf as she lay in bed afterwards, her safe place exposed, her defences shredded.

Emma had found her, soothed her, tried to talk to her. And later that night, cradled her tenderly. For the first time ever, Regina had felt protected after the crushing ordeal of a visit from her mother.

That night, as those long limbs had curled around hers, just before she fell into slumber, she decided to give the other woman the jacket, no matter what it cost her. Even if she laughed in her face. Or worse, saw it for what it was.

Regina's thoughts reluctantly skidded onto Cora's second visit. As long as she lived she would never be able to shake from her brain the astonishment at seeing Emma burst from behind the cottage screaming at her mother. Waving her sword futilely. Eyes blazing with fearless fury. Being the hero.

For her.

Regina wasn't worthy of such loyalty. Such ... devotion. She should have explained that to her from the start and maybe they wouldn't have ended up like this. But for a moment there, it felt like Emma was whispering in her brain that she was worth it. That she would fight for her.

And oh how she had.

But Cora had looked right through her. Regina could almost feel the cold stare as she mocked her daughter's feelings and deduced what she wanted to do with Emma.

How had she known that after their spooning each night she so badly desired Emma to turn her over and drop kisses down her neck, run her hands over her body and claim her. And for Regina to bury herself in Emma's breasts and show her she was more than just retorts, edges and prickles.

How had Cora known?

Her mother's sharp eyes had pinned her with a look that said she had missed nothing. And then she had eclipsed the sheer wickedness of that moment by sneering her knowledge to the whole world.

_To Emma._

For the first time in decades she truly did feel naked. Stripped. Humiliated. It went far deeper than her bare skin being on display. Cora had flayed her soul for her amusement. Revealing the carefully buried secret. That she _wanted _Emma.

_Of course_ Regina wanted the blonde. How the hell could she not want the woman who held her at night, soothed away her fears, talked to her easily about anything and everything, and fought like a lion for her? Who made her laugh for the first time in years, and who understood what it was like to be messed up and broken.

But to throw that out there in front of Emma like some sordid, deviant, nasty little … _thing_...

Even just remembering the moment, she flushed with shame. She had wanted to die on the spot.

And then in the next breath Cora revealed Emma loved her.

_Loved her._

She had craned her neck up to sneak a look at the battered sheriff, whose jaw was stuck out in a pugnacious reminder of her son's, and realised that if it was true, she didn't deserve it. It was like the entire world being offered to a beggar on the streets.

In the dying moments of their encounter Cora had cocked her head arrogantly and glared nastily at her. She looked her directly in the eye until Regina shrank back, trembled and felt small again. And then her mother had matter-of-factly vowed to kill her love.

A sick sensation settled in her stomach, churning.

_There's always more._

The moment Cora viciously spat out the threat, the promise, really, Regina knew what she had to do.

. . . .

During her night of lovemaking with Emma, Regina had soaked in every sensation, watching, memorising, knowing it would be their last moment together.

Perhaps it was wrong to have taken what she had, knowing what would follow. But Regina simply could not leave without knowing what it was like to have Emma Swan moving beneath her. Sighing. Calling her name. Groaning and rocking against her. Clenching and unclenching urgent hands over her scalp, threading through her hair. Coming hard under her thrusting fingers. Claimed.

Hers.

She knew in her heart it was selfish. But that had always been one of her many failings.

Later she had felt so content lying in her arms, soaking up the lazy afterglow. Emma had even drowsily said she loved her. Regina smiled. She had already felt it long before Emma had said it. And so she gave a contented agreeable "Mmmm" and allowed herself the luxury of a split second to forget.

To dream. To ask herself "what if".

Then a movement out of the corner of her eye made her freeze and all thoughts of happiness instantly fled. She had twisted slowly, careful not to dislodge her sleeping lover.

It was in the window near the door. Regina gently slid out from under Emma's warm limbs and padded softly, naked, to the kitchen and peeked.

A scout bird. This one had confused itself and was carrying out the same looping aerial manouver over and again, twisting and turning, trying to get a look inside the cottage and home in on the inhabitants, but failing due to the window's position. But still it persisted, like a dumb remote-controlled car banging incessantly against a door. Vainly, stupidly, but ever-present.

Regina wondered what it would even be able to capture visually in such darkness anyway. She watched it for a while, out of sight, straining and turning, angling, its red eyes desperately seeking its targets.

A coldness began to fill Regina as she watched the repeated action. Heartless and relentless like their master - Regina needed no more reminders of what she needed to do.

It was time.

She sighed softly and headed to the wardrobe, scooping up the pouch of Henry's photos and finding the clothes her mother would class as evidence she was still suitably evil through and through. Soulless. Morally malleable and emotionally bereft. _Just as her mother liked her._

She disappeared into the bathroom to dress silently. She wrote the letter, placed it on the jacket, and looked at their bed. Her gaze was drawn to the sleeping blonde.

She would miss her. A companion, a fighter, a lover. And a friend.

Her only friend.

Emma shifted in her sleep, and a pale breast slid into view making Regina's breath catch. She was so beautiful. She had to force her fingers into tight fists to stop herself from gathering the blonde greedily up and never letting go.

Instead...

She gathered a few supplies then headed for the door. She leaned her head against the rough-hewn wood, her hand fumbling for the handle.

The door gently clicked open and she crept outside. When it softly shut, Regina stood straight and tall and stared up. A full moon. She gazed at it for a while, allowing herself to admire its beauty as she fought to suppress the memories and emotions she felt hammering away at her skull.

She was not _that_ Regina any more. She was the other one.

_"I will destroy your happiness."_

That one.

She strode off into the night and did not look back. She was the epitome of a powerful evil witch, she told herself, over and over.

If only her footfalls did not keep faltering. And small drops of water did not keep splashing on the sand.


	6. Chapter 6

**A LEDGER SQUARED IN BLOOD**

**By Scribes and Scrolls**

**CHAPTER SIX: NEW WORLD ORDER**

Regina glanced at the softly lightening sky but did not slow her stride for a moment. Stray strands of dark hair stuck to her forehead and a sheen of perspiration clung to her arms, face and rapidly rising and falling chest. She estimated she had about an hour before dawn. She had only made one stop - a short detour via the healing pool to fill up her canteen - but since then she had been going a constant ferocious pace, her thigh-high black leather boots surprisingly well suited for powering through prickly underbrush. But she couldn't stop yet. The thought Emma might suddenly wake and follow her and give her some aching puppy-dog look that would break her resolve chilled her. _It could not happen._

As she crested a steep rocky hill, she could now see the hints of morning light threatening the horizon beyond. She calculated again. Timing was everything. She mustn't get there too early. It wouldn't do to wake Mother. The woman could make Medusa seem friendly when roused against her will. Finally, she eased her stride and allowed her heart to slow a little.

She made it down into a small clearing and recognised immediately she was in deathclaw territory now. Her eyes became sharp and vigilant. Within seconds of registering the thought a frightening blur of white appeared in the corner of her eye. The brunette spun around instantly, hands coming up defensively.

She swore and jumped back. She frowned at the creature which had skidded to a halt before her and she crossed her arms in irritation. Her cleavage puffed out magnificently and she almost rolled her eyes. She had forgotten the absurdity of these villain-vamp outfits.

She glared at her intruder. "You scared the hell out of me," she said.

The large snow-lion put a heavy, razor-sharp paw forward on the ground and dipped its enormous hairy head deeply. It bowed so low its whiskers touched the dirt. "Apologies, Majesty. But there are vicious wolves in this area. I thought you should be warned."

Regina nodded. Yes, that feral pack that favoured the Charmings. She was well aware they sometimes hunted on her land. No amount of tricky defensive spells or populating the area with deathclaws had driven them off for any length of time.

"Your concern is appreciated, deathclaw," Regina said, "but even those wolves would not be so brazen as to attack royalty in her own lands."

The deathclaw paused. Regina narrowed her eyes and said: "What? Out with it!"

The creature's icy-cool eyes blinked and it said hesitantly, "Word has reached the animals that Queen Cora does not allow your name to be spoken of as part of her clan. You have been stripped of royal standing."

She sucked in a shaky breath. Hell, she hadn't counted on that. Being a royal was one of the few protections she had in exile, as it guaranteed natural predators steered clear. It was forbidden for sentient creatures to attack a royal family member on their own lands. Of course if she travelled outside of her land, that was a different matter. But now… thanks to her ambitious mother, it seemed she was unsafe _everywhere_.

_How thoughtful of her._

Regina scowled. Cora had dodged the curse by being in Wonderland when it hit. She hadn't entirely pieced together all the details yet but she gathered there had been a short but bloody coup and her mother had emerged as queen. But one realm was clearly not enough for her politically climbing mother. _Heaven forbid_. And once she'd worked out where Regina had gotten to, she made herself at home in the Infinite Forest, too.

As a result she'd created a nasty constitutional mess by conveniently declaring her missing daughter dead and acquiring her castle and lands. Of course, Cora had no way of predicting the curse would ever be broken and had probably been hunkering down, prepared to rule there for the rest of her days. But now the curse was shattered and the original and rightful monarch was back.

Very much alive.

_Awkward._

Regina wondered briefly whether any of her people had fought for her or if they'd just weakly stood by while Cora bullied her way into the palace with her trademark smoke and magic show? Then again Regina wondered what loyalty she deserved in the first place – she hadn't exactly been the world's most benevolent monarch.

Not that her mother would have been much kinder. Everything Regina knew about emotional destructiveness she'd learned at the knee of mother dearest. And the brunette had quite the impressive hope chest of psychological scars to prove it.

Regina felt her stomach lurch. Thinking about her mother always did this to her. A headache began to pound.

_Focus_. OK. So she'd lost her royal status and protection. _For now. _Some animals, like deathclaws whom she had given sanctuaries to around her lands while she was queen, would stay loyal regardless. The rest … well they would take great pleasure in tearing her down to size. Literally.

Sure, she could use magic for protection but doing it day in day out to fend off constant attacks left a spell caster so drained they would be weak and useless in less than a week. Which meant she'd need somewhere safe to hide, and soon. Or she could convince her mother to take her in. Which was her Plan A, anyway.

Although now it had just become her only option.

A thought occurred. "How long?" she demanded of the beast watching her closely.

"Majesty?"

"How long has the decree been in place? About me not being afforded royal status?"

The deathclaw tilted its head curiously. "Why, Majesty – 28 years."

Regina felt the blood drain from her face. Her traitorous mother had stripped her of protection and seized power the same year the curse was enacted? Had she even waited a whole month? Or even a week?

_Well just ... hell_.

Regina was churning. It wasn't enough she was on her own, on the run, and she didn't even know the new rules and political alliances of her own lands._ Former land_s. But she now had proof of what her mother thought of her. Proof she had actively conspired against her. Her final sadistic act of treachery - Cora had actually stripped her of her only remaining protection that would keep her safe from being ripped apart by vicious animals on her own lands. And she had it done to her decades ago, long before yesterday's nasty showdown.

She supposed she shouldn't be surprised. Her mother had consistently undermined and hurt her for as long as she could remember. But she always dressed it up as if it were somehow for her own good. Killing Daniel had been to save her from herself apparently. But even her manipulative mother couldn't excuse this outrage as being for Regina's betterment.

Her mother clearly hated her. And wanted her dead.

Regina's mouth fell open. That was the first time she had ever given oxygen to that thought.

In the past she had always pinned her fury on the betraying child. Snow had been such a convenient receptacle for all that was wrong in her life. So easy to blame. Because, Regina swallowed fearfully, to actually admit her own mother was a monster, her own mother could deliberately and callously do these things to her daughter, well that meant …

Regina's breath hitched. That meant admitting she wasn't loved by her own mother. And what kind of child is _so _awful even a mother wouldn't love it?

She had believed for many years her mother's criticisms of her, her disappointment in her. The way she always irritatedly straightened her clothes and told her she could never be a proper lady when she was such a mess. Her failings were regularly catalogued and listed. Her father did his best to tell her Cora loved her in her own way, but Regina never believed it.

Now she knew why. Her mother did not even like her, let alone love her. Her mother wanted her dead, and likely always had. Her hands balled into furious fists and she felt for a moment she couldn't even breathe. She had never hated her mother so much as she did right now.

All her self loathing. All the years of just feeling she did not deserve love. Damn that wretched woman._ Who DOES that to a child?_

Regina's eyes narrowed. She may not be worthy of love. She may be a miserable, pitiful excuse for a daughter, but even at her most evil she would never _literally _throw her own child to the wolves. To be left to be ripped apart and die alone and unloved and miserable in Hell's own desolate backyard. That took a particular brand of cruelty.

Or worse. Complete indifference.

For some reason a vision of Snow flitted past her face and she almost felt like laughing that she had been so effective for so many years at convincing herself the simple creature could have wrought such great damage on her, when the real culprit had stood feet away for most of her life.

Watching, mocking, loathing. Killing.

The torrent of emotions hit her in the gut. She dropped to her knees and heaved. She hadn't eaten in hours so nothing came up. She felt humiliated and angry. The deathclaw was looking at her uneasily. It stepped forward. She could smell its foul breath. It made her feel sicker.

"Majesty are you unwell?"

Regina swallowed to ease the dryness, and waited for her gut to settle from its roiling. She looked up.

"I'm fine," she snapped, annoyed with her display of weakness. "Just not used to travelling so far on foot."

"Then why not use your magics?" the beast asked curiously.

"In a little while," Regina said. "When I am far enough away that it doesn't affect the hatch lock."

The animal looked understandably confused and Regina half smiled at the odd expression. Animals did not avail themselves of human complications like realm-travel tunnels. If they wanted to commute from one realm to the next they simply walked there. It might take months, but so what?

"Never mind," she said. She reached for her canteen of water and sat back on her haunches. "Tell me about the animal alliances around here," she said. "Who is in supremacy these days? What are the factions?"

She took a long draught, feeling the waters' magical properties revitalise her, and then listened patiently as the deathclaw explained the new world to her. Much had changed in her absence. But a lot had also stayed the same. Like deathclaws still hated wolves.

It was mutual. She wasn't a fan, either, and her enmity towards them was well known. If it hadn't been for her pact with her huntsman she'd have blown the Charming loyalist pack apart with fireballs decades ago.

She put the lid back on her canteen, rose and dusted off her dirty knees.

"I must continue," she told the deathclaw. "Thank you for the information. Good health to you and your family."

The creature bowed its head once more. "And to you and yours, Majesty."

Regina froze. All her composure threatened to crack. She abruptly strode away as fast she could so the creature wouldn't see the tears welling. She seriously had to stop these emotional displays. It would get her killed if they leaked out like this in front of her suspicious mother.

The problem was any time she thought of Henry or Emma, she caved. She couldn't even pretend to herself she didn't see the blonde now as family, because plainly she did. A family she had deliberately and cruelly hurt. A family who now absolutely hated her.

Tears rose anew and she shook her head in fury at herself. She swore.

_Get it together._

She was almost running now, stumbling to get through the undergrowth as though she could outrun her tumbling morass of feelings. It was only when the ground turned white and her hair magically stood on end, that she realised the danger she was in.

_OH HELL!_

Regina lay on the ground where she had flung herself with half a second to spare and spat out sand. Crap. You'd think she'd remember her own goddamned anti-intruder spells. _Seriously! _The blastercloud had almost taken her head off.

She had gone to a lot of effort to plant various dangerous defensive systems throughout her lands. But she was only safe from them when she actually _remembered _they were there. She felt extremely foolish.

She quickly mentally sorted through her other defences. What would be her next one? _Ah yes. Scapulus._

She would go as far as his nest and by then she could teleport to her castle and side-step the rest. She mentally shifted gears. It was Cora's castle now, she amended bitterly. Time to start thinking like an obedient daughter if she was ever to get a shapely boot through the front door.

Regina headed straight for a rather sinister-looking rocky outcropping. She whistled sharply twice and an enormous black demon vulture shrieked a return greeting and flew to her. His wingspan filled the pale skies with blackness until he dropped to Regina's feet with a shuddering thud. He folded the wings artfully around himself. Even sitting on the ground the enormous deadly creature came up as high as her chest and was twice as wide.

"Scapulus, hail," she said formally, lifting her hand in a stiff wave.

"Majesty, well met," he hissed.

"Report," she said.

"The ssskies are clear. The creatures ssscurry. All is as it wassss when last we met."

Regina was somewhat amused. "That was three decades ago, my vicious old scout."

"If you sssay ssso, Majesty," he said and shook his craggy head to settle his feathers. Regina did her sums. He must be at least 150 years old by now.

"You didn't notice my mother now rules my castle in my stead?" she continued, unable to keep the edge out of her tone.

"All humans look the sssame from the air," he replied with a rattling, ancient cackle.

Regina pursed her lips. "Not too similar, I would hope. I'd hate you to mistake me for one of my enemies."

"Not likely, highnessss. You are the one who whistles."

The brunette smiled at his simplicity. "Indeed I am. Is there anything new happening?"

"The castle humansss last night began moving the wooden man," Scapulus nodded his ebony-black head further up the canyon, his wing unfurling a little and its tip pointing to the right.

Regina looked where he pointed. She could see nothing but rocky or sandy ridges on either side. "Why would they do that? It takes fifty soldiers for that thankless duty and Cora isn't at war."

"The pointless ssscrabblings of tiny humansss are not my concern."

Regina found she rather envied the demon vulture's philosophy. A shaft of light hit her face and she glanced straight down the chasm's valley floor. The sun was rising. Soon she would be witness to a spectacle that reminded her why she had had her castle built in such a forbidding land, close to little else of any value.

"It beginsss," Scapulus hissed reverently also turning its head to the rising warmth.

"Yes it does," Regina whispered joyfully. She spread her hands out facing the sun.

"May I?" he asked her.

"You may."

She watched as the demon vulture turned away from her, took three steps back, spread his wings fully out and lifted into the air in two mighty flaps. Then he hung there, as though crucified, wings twitching ever so slightly to hold position, soaking up the warmth of the rays that were now filling the canyon.

In a magnificent display, the dawn light was now turning the rocks a glowing orange colour, as though liquid gold was being poured down a chute. Before long every part of the canyon wall and floor was lit up in a brilliant spectacle so enchanting she held her breath in wonder.

She had forgotten how beautiful it was. Every day without fail when she was queen she would stand on the balcony of her castle and just revel in the glorious sight of dawn across her land.

Scapulus cawed in delight, his face haloed, body glowing like the rocks below – then he rose higher, doing huge sweeping arcs, soaking in the effect.

Regina smiled at his blissful expression and allowed herself the moment to forget everything but the sense of wonder that came from being a witness to the Canyon of Light at precisely two minutes after sunrise.

The irony did not escape her that her dark castle of bleakness should rise at the foot of this particular canyon capable of the world's most beautiful light show. But life was full of irony. Such as being master to a bloodthirsty vulture addicted to sunbaking.

She watched his majestic movements. She really did envy the creature's simple life at times.

The sun rose ever higher and Regina tilted her head back, closing her eyes and feeling the light and heat fill her every pore.

Suddenly the effect ended as though a dimmer switch had been twisted sharply. Now normal lighting filtered along the rocky walls and ridges.

Regina exhaled sharply, disappointed as she always was that it never lasted for longer than half an hour. But she felt energised for the task that lay ahead. Scapulus flapped powerfully back to his nest on the outcropping.

Regina looked forwards and squinted at the speck of a castle that was now visible in the distance. She calmed her breathing and called up a mental picture of Henry and Emma.

_For them._

She muttered the transport enchantment and then breathed in. Before she could finish the breath she had materialised in a blueish white flash in front of a set of of enormous, forbidding black doors. She sagged weakly but immediately hid how drained she felt. She had no idea how her mother had been physically able to manage to transport three times in one day.

A pair of on-duty guards jumped in fright and then pointed gleaming swords at her.

She tsked them as she walked over. "Now, now, boys, don't go trying to kill your queen's only child. She would take a dim view of that, indeed."

She offered her most seductive smile and thrust out her chest and watched the effect with interest. Both men flicked looks at each other and then their eyeballs seemed to do a synchronised dive straight down her cleavage. She slid her hands on her hips, thrumming her fingers as though impatient, and eyed them cockily.

The men's eyeballs were still in freefall. Regina really wished they'd get on with it - her corset super-expansion manoeuvre was hurting like hell to maintain. Finally they remembered their day jobs and uncertain eyes locked back onto hers.

"Ah, Her Majesty did not mention you were coming, Mistress Regina," one of the men spoke, betraying his confusion. The other bobbed his head up and down in what she presumed was his best effort at moral support for the first. His armour clanged stupidly for effect.

Regina noted moodily the demotion in her title. _Her deathclaw was well-informed._

"I wanted to surprise her," she said airily and swished a hand out in feigned indifference. "Well, really, it's returning the favour. She surprised me with a visit just yesterday."

She smiled winningly. Then she simply strode forward between them, hoping like hell she wasn't about to impaled in stereo.

The men hesitated but slid their swords back into scabbards, stepped aside and pulled the giant doors open.

_She still had it._

...

Cora Mills eyed her daughter sullenly in her bedroom. It had once been Regina's bedroom, the brunette thought with dissatisfaction. She eyed the pinks and reds in the garish décor and felt faintly ill. Not a fashionable black in sight._ Seriously, Mother?_ It also seemed ... larger? Had her mother actually annexed two rooms to add to this? Typical. Why think big when you can think ostentatiously _grand_.

"You have some nerve," the older woman said grumpily, running fingers through still mussed hair. She looked weak, old and drained, which wasn't surprising after her magics Armageddon of only a day before. She slapped a robe on and was clearly still trying to properly wake up.

Regina was relieved to have made it this far. Rousing her mother when she had been asleep would have probably been suicidal. Catching her mother wide awake and alert and fully scheming would likely have had the same outcome. But getting her in between was probably the only thing that had saved her skin at this moment. She was grimly satisfied she knew that much about the woman who had given birth to her.

"Mother, I didn't want to leave things how we … left them yesterday."

"With your love's sword pressed at my throat you mean?"

"She always was impulsive and impossible to reason with," Regina admitted agreeably, "and she's not my _love_." She injected an effective sneer into the word. "If she was I'd be in bed with her now not visiting my mother to make amends."

"Make amends?" Cora asked her suspiciously. "How?"

"I want to apologise personally for that woman nearly ending your life, for a start."

Cora snorted. "She was in no danger of that. I was just curious to see how serious she was. _Quite serious _it seems. Although I notice you didn't lift a finger to help me."

Regina swallowed. "You should have also noticed I didn't help _her_, either. I didn't want to intervene in your fight. I thought you would prefer to handle it yourself."

"_Regina Coralina Mills_ you would have let me _die _in front of you yesterday and we both know it," Cora snapped furiously.

"Never mother!" Regina protested. Her tone turned beseeching. "I always knew you were in no real danger. You are far too powerful to be ended by a common … bounty hunter."

"Mm," Cora assessed her doubtfully. "So you said something about amends?"

"Mother, we have been apart for too long. So much has happened. I would like us to be as we always should have been – mother and daughter. Strong. The House of Mills. United. I would dedicate myself to _your _service."

Cora eyed her coldly. "And this has nothing to do with you being in exile and having your royal protection and title removed, daughter?"

"I never cared for such things. You know that, Mother."

Cora rose and walked to the glass doors of her bedroom, opened them and walked out to the balcony. She wrapped her wafting apricot robe closer to herself, knotted it more tightly and then leaned against the rail. Regina, after a moment's hesitation, followed. The view was, as always, breathtaking – if panoramic desolation was your thing.

"That is true. You never did want the titles as such," her mother said examining the shadowed landscape before her. "But you also brought down that curse which affected an entire realm, and you had _such _a lust for power and control. A mother knows things about her daughter," she angled her head right and looked squarely at Regina, "and that was … unexpected, even to me. What you so selfishly did affected a lot of people. A lot of alliances. You shook up the entire world order. All because _you _weren't happy. _Happy!_ How many times have I explained to you happiness is overrated? And that your precious happiness is utterly irrelevant_! _What you feel _doesn't matter. _Look at how weak it made you. How emotional and out of control!"

Regina felt trapped in her molten gaze. "I know, Mother. I had a … moment of madness. My interest in darkness has receded."

"Entirely?"

"How could anything that deep be gone for good?" Regina said softly. She wondered if she had spoken the truth. She wasn't sure. The idea filled her with shame.

Her mother nodded, seemingly pleased her daughter's potential in the dark arts was not entirely lost to her.

"Why should I let you back in? You could kill me in my sleep and get your castle back. Isn't that your grand plan?" She eyed her coldly, daring her to come up with a plausible denial.

"If I had wanted you dead, mother, I would have killed you when you were at your weakest. When Snow's spawn had a sword at your throat. As I said, I didn't help her."

Cora stared at her. "No, you didn't," she agreed begrudgingly. She tried a different tack, like a snake latching fangs onto a different body part. "And yet she _loves _you. And you love her."

Regina shook her head in disgust. "Love is a weakness," she sneered, parroting her mother's words from years ago. "I have found it does nothing but make you vulnerable and dampen your sheets."

Cora actually laughed at that. Regina allowed herself a small smile, unsure if her subtle diversion had worked or not.

"Did you practice that line, dear? It is rather good." Her eyes mocked her coolly.

_Oh hell._

"Mother, I am not some lovesick teenager anymore," Regina tried again. "It's time we put this animosity behind us."

"Mmph," Cora snorted. She folded her arms. "And what of your violent blonde _friend_. She seems annoyingly loyal and persistent and not entirely unskilled with weaponry."

Regina allowed a heartless smile to spread across her face. "I have taken care of that problem. You won't have to worry about her anymore."

Cora mused for a moment and her eyes flicked up and down Regina. Weighing.

"I am not getting any younger, daughter," she admitted, returning to gaze at the bleak vista. "I admit it would be nice to have some family around me. Especially since you made me a widow." Her head whipped around sharply to watch as her venomous bite sank in.

Regina suppressed the shudder and schooled her features to gaze back impassively. "We all have made mistakes we would like to correct. Like losing family over vendettas long in the past, long buried."

"What if the classless blonde doesn't flee? She looked like she was dying to have her wicked way with you."

With enormous effort Regina forced the visual picture from her brain. God, how her mother was a master at pushing her buttons. Anything to get a response. Testing her, trying all tactics to get a rise.

"I wouldn't know," Regina lied with what she hoped was just the right amount of indifference. "She's not exactly my type." Her lip curled. "Besides I guarantee she will be gone very soon. I was _extremely _cruel."

Cora smiled at that, and it sent a chill down Regina's spine. Her mother spoke with slow calculation, drawing out the insult. "Well you always did have _that _trait in spades, didn't you dear? No one crosses my little girl, hmm?"

Regina couldn't help but wince inwardly. Her mother wasn't wrong. Something else to thank her for. She waited nervously for her mother's verdict.

"I suppose we could see how we cope living with each other for a while. Perhaps it is time for bygones to be bygones. And it occurs to me you do have one potential use. Where the useless blonde might fail at bringing in intel, I may have overlooked a better source, closer to home."

"Mother?"

"You ran a town with Snow and James in it for three decades," Cora said thoughtfully. "By now you must know how they think, feel, eat, drink and probably even what side of the bed they sleep on. I was remiss to think their child who had only just entered their life would know them better than their nemesis who has done little else but observe them for half a lifetime."

"Uh …" Regina said uncertainly.

"Well _do you or do you not_ know how they think?" Cora snapped in irritation.

"I do," Regina replied with a firmness she did not feel.

"So you can tell me whether they will seek to reclaim the Enchanted Forest, and what their next move is likely to be?"

Her mother was looking at her hard now.

"Yes Mother, I can well guess."

"_Not guess!_" Cora said and slammed a hand hard on the railing. "I want to _know_. And so will King George. He has some expansion plans for this region and the next and now the curse is broken he will need to know how that will affect things."

"I will certainly help with what I know, Mother," Regina said reassuringly. "My knowledge will be at your disposal. And perhaps I can also be of use tactically. I am quite adept at…"

Cora waved her hand. "Yes, yes. George will have his own tactics and needs no help from _amateurs _on that. He is more interested in intelligence, and I can now be pivotal in providing that to him. Which in turn means of course…"

She looked at her daughter expectantly. Waiting for the correct answer.

"He will need _you_. You will become indispensible to him," Regina finished dutifully.

"So I see you are not completely worthless after all," Cora said, a satisfied gleam entering her eye. She walked past her, towards her bedroom, speaking over her shoulder as she went. "All right, daughter, you are restored to the House of Mills. You will not be called 'queen' of course - there is room for only one. But you will get your royal protection back and will be addressed appropriately as the relation of a queen."

"Thank you, Mother," Regina said and tried to keep the elation from her voice.

"But hear this, daughter," the older woman hissed and spun around. In one step she was inside Regina's personal space. Her hand slid around her daughter's soft neck and she stroked it almost lovingly, cupping just under her chin.

"I will be watching you. And if you so much blink with malevolent intent in my direction I will track down your little blonde in whatever realm she exists, and clean up the problem the same way I did last time, while you watch and beg, helpless to lift a finger to stop me." The hand at her throat tightened sharply and Regina found herself gasping for air. "_Do we understand each other?_"

Regina's eyes began to bulge and her face reddened as the hand squeezed even harder and she felt the familiar fear. The fear that she didn't know whether this time her mother would stop in time.

Meanwhile, her slave status had just been effectively confirmed.

"Y-yes mother," she gasped out.

The grip tightened harder for a moment, fingernails now digging into the skin of her throat. Then the pressure was gone. Fingernails slid upward, across her cheek in a cruel parody of a lover's tender touch.

"You have always been such a disappointment to me," she stated sadly. "Maybe this time you can do something right. Hmm? Maybe this time I will get the daughter I deserve?"

The hand dropped and Regina's eyes sank to the floor as she felt the words stab her stomach. Instead of her usual recoil of dismay and horror, this time she felt cold fury begin to stew. She clenched eyelids shut so her mother wouldn't see.

When they opened again Cora gave her a sunny smile. "Well then, that's settled. You may have the Florence Room. You might remember it better as where your pet huntsman resided. I'll see you for breakfast. The usual time. Punctuality is _expected_."

The implied threat was pointless. Regina knew well never to deny one of her mother's orders. She stumbled out of the bedroom and headed for the hallway, rubbing her abused throat.

She knew the room Cora meant. It had been Graham's when he was her occasional bed-warmer. Her mother was making a statement by allocating it to her. She was little better than the former hired help.

Regina headed along the corridors towards the room, trying to minimise the burst of terror she still felt over what had just happened. It had only marginally receded by the time she reached her new bedroom. Her trembling hand turned the door handle.

It was as she remembered – small, neat, not grand in the least, but the window that overlooked the side of the castle grounds gave a view of the forest in the distance.

She looked around and realised the quarters were filled by an old woman's possessions. The Florence Room? _Florence's room more likely._ She eyed the hairbrush, hand mirror and a simple shift draped over a plain chair. _A poor servant's effects. A lady in waiting, most likely. _That her mother could actually snub two women in one fell swoop was impressive, even for her.

She glanced up at the view. A wrap-around balcony that flowed and connected all the way around the front of the castle, including access to the main rooms which had the canyon below, afforded her a chance to step out of her bedroom and forget where she was.

And what she was doing there.

She considered her plan. She realised she couldn't bring down her mother through magic. It was only too true she had never lifted a finger to help Emma fight her mother. Decades ago her mother had drilled her out of that notion when she had begun her first forays into magic by cruelly and repeatedly showing her the futility of challenging her.

She had remembered the damaging, painful lessons well. The bottom line always the same: there's no point trying. Her mother's magical supremacy was unquestioned. It was useless, pointless to even bother. Regina had absorbed the lessons very well. She had never questioned that for years.

Until yesterday.

And then Emma had shown her, as she stood over the crumpled, weakened form of her usually powerful mother, just how wrong that assumption was. She now had hope. Oh, she might not be able to defeat the witch head-to-head with magic, but that did not mean she couldn't be defeated.

As a former politician Regina now had three decades' experience as a master of manipulation. She was no longer a quivering child. She knew her mother's secrets that she hid from the world. Things like her vanity, insecurities, her fears of being alone, her need to save face above all else.

The mayor now knew very well how to exploit a weakness. She was more skilled in this than even the dark arts. And she already had a fairly good idea where to begin. Her mother had even said what mattered to her most: impressing King George.

Regina might not be Cora's superior in magic, she mused, but now she knew how to defeat her.

She leaned against the windowed doors and stared at the dark green forest. For the first time since she had been inside these walls, and that included her years as queen, she gave a wide, genuine smile.

She was going to win. Then Emma and Henry would be forever safe.

The wetness in the corners of her eyes welled once more when she inadvertently pictured Emma looking at her letter. Her heart clenched at what she'd had to do. She could see huge sad green eyes reading it, her shapely mouth dropping open in horror. Hating her. The same eyes that had watched her joyously, warmed as she touched her, filled with such love.

_But she would be safe. And that was all that mattered now. _


	7. Chapter 7

**A Ledger Squared in Blood**

**By Scribes and Scrolls**

**CHAPTER SEVEN: DIVIDED LOYALTIES**

It had taken Regina half a week to settle into the castle's daily life and rhythms, and even less time than that to work out what her mother was up to.

The settling in was the easy part. All castles have eyes. Servants, staff and minders who scurry about the crevices and see and hear all things. The secret, Regina knew, was to find the gossips and then separate out those brimming with racy speculation from those with actual facts. And she knew kitchens were always hubs of both speculation and facts.

Regina had quickly made the rustic kitchen in the bowels of the castle her second home, charmingly confessing to a bad coffee habit that she did not possess as a reason for her constant visits. Although - she was probably starting to develop one.

It took a few days before the kitchen staff had stopped darting eyes suspiciously in her direction and speaking in stilted tones. After a while they just began to accept their queen's prodigal daughter must simply enjoy the sights, smells and sounds of a bustling kitchen - because no one could like coffee that much - and went about their business.

This morning, like every other, the brunette found herself seated at a rough-hewn table trying not to wince as she sipped on Cook's too-sweet brew and watched as the plump, ruddy-cheeked woman with auburn hair wrangled into a sloppy bun pummelled away at some dough on a nearby bench and chatted contentedly. Sometimes she talked to herself, sometimes to her staff. Occasionally she'd throw a comment Regina's way, too.

Cook, apparently the only name she ever went by, was a bosomy woman with an apron strangling her heaving waist. And as the days wore on she was becoming putty in Regina's skilled hands. The woman adored being the centre of attention and had plenty of opinions to share, from the secret to good stuffed figs with honey mead, to the "diva demands" of King George's men when they came to visit ("them rank 'n' file demand truffles sprinkled on their potatoes like lords of the realm!"). She had clearly missed acquiring a censor button.

Just that morning the brunette had learned there was now a new stable boy - only three days into the job. He was, according to Cook, "fresh-faced", "a little too pretty for a youth if you ask me", although "a little dull".

A ramble down to feed the horses later that day with Cook's old apples revealed a young man who was, indeed, all these things - and one thing more. He looked uncannily like Daniel.

Regina had stared hard at him, incredulous, and felt a new fury burning for her mother.

Cora had been laying a series of little traps and diversions in her path almost daily now, testing her, needling her. Regina, in turn, had been expertly sidestepping them with the skill and delicacy of a prima ballerina.

The older woman had one day sent her off to dust her books in the library, presumably to see if any of the dark magics tomes might entice her to study them. Regina hadn't even bothered looking for the scout bird she knew had to be somewhere in the room, and had simply done the job quickly and exited.

Her mother also had demanded she inventory her potions' ingredients room. She wondered if Cora seriously thought her so foolish as to pocket the nightshade? As if her mother didn't already know the exact quantities of her own poisons collection. So Regina had dutifully counted, catalogued, ground her teeth and left.

And now her most recent annoyance was this! Regina grimly stared at the Daniel doppelganger. _Who was her mother kidding?_ She was either rubbing her nose in the memory of the man she'd watched die, for some kind of sick kicks. Or she was trying to tempt the brunette to stray with someone she thought was her type so she could punish her for being a whore. Or she was trying to make her move on and forget Emma. Or all of the above. Regina wasn't entirely sure which category this outrage fell into – but whatever the reason, it was appalling.

However, her stormy mood markedly improved when she discovered her mother probably should have interviewed her Daniel clone a little more thoroughly. Blushing furiously and not realising who Regina was beyond that she had just come from the kitchen, he'd nervously asked her whether she knew if the kitchen hand was "unattached". "The cute one," he explained shyly, eyes darkening with desire, "his name's Edward."

Regina had smirked all the way back to the kitchen. She wondered how she could seamlessly slip that little tidbit into a conversation with her mother. It would easily be worth a full day of enduring her dagger eyes and thin lips just for that moment.

But it turned out Daniel 2.0 wasn't the only romantic spike pit that had been set for her. A busty blonde named Rosemary had begun waylaying her with monotonous regularity, batting pretty blue eyes and boldly thrusting out her bosom. Regina, master of both manoeuvres herself, had simply regarded the woman's efforts with a vaguely amused, scholarly detachment.

After days of futile attempts at seduction, the brunette was surprised her mother hadn't given up and just inserted the young woman naked between her bed sheets.

Whatever Cora's reasons for trying to distract or test her daughter's hormones, the brunette wasn't biting. Regina had dismissed Rosemary sweetly but firmly - although she had felt a little awkward for Cook. The persistent seductress was her daughter, after all. And as well-connected as Cook was in palace gossip, Regina wondered whether the old woman realised what was going on under her nose.

Some days were harder than others. At times Regina dreaded getting out of bed, weighed down by crushing emotional eddies, unable to think about her clever schemes or facing the kitchen when thoughts turned to the woman she had loved and destroyed. She would sometimes simply lay there, eyes filled with tears and stare numbly at the forest view.

One such morning, as she cried softly, wondering what Emma was doing and whether she was happy now without her, she was startled to feel eyes watching her.

An enormous wolf was sitting outside on the balcony, just staring through the windowed doors at her.

She recoiled in shock, muffling a small gasp and only relaxed slightly when the animal made no moves at all. Her eyes narrowed as she took in its distinctive grey fur and intelligent, knowing eyes.

She'd seen this beast before.

"What do you want, Wolf?" she demanded through the glass, quickly wiping away the evidence of her emotional disarray.

It said nothing.

"I know you! You wanted to attack me weeks ago! By the lake," she gritted her teeth. The memory of that frightening encounter would probably never fade.

It tilted its head. Staring hard.

"You were lucky I respected an old, old deal," she snarled as she tried to hide the sniffles rising up. "I could have fried you where you stood."

Still it watched.

"Just go away," she finally muttered and rolled over, burying her face into the pillow. "Leave me alone."

She could have sworn she heard the word "salty". Then silence.

_What the hell?_

When she turned back again later, eyes red and puffy, it was gone.

She wondered who its master was. Cora most likely. _Figures Mother would ally herself to those vicious creatures._

. . . . . . .

The days bled into each other. Her network was expanding but still the former mayor didn't have enough crucial information for what she needed.

It was Rosemary who actually provided the breakthrough in Regina's ever-growing arsenal of intelligence. She should have remembered it was always the pretty blondes who get underestimated - especially by men with eyes for only one thing.

Although to be fair, she couldn't blame them. The woman was especially easy on the eyes. A lifetime ago she would have lustily thrust her up against a bedroom wall, hitched her muslin skirt up soft milky-white thighs and have her mewling her name in no time.

_That was then._

The brunette found the blonde curled up outside her door late one night, hands around knees, nodding off. Waiting. A paper bag was beside her.

Regina's eyebrows shot up, wondering if her mother had indeed given up with any pretence at subtlety.

"Oh, Your Majesty, I hope you don't mind," Rosemary's eyes blinked open. She seemed a little embarrassed and rumpled, but not remotely sorry.

Regina looked her up and down, and given the woman was both fully clad and seemed completely sincere, she opened the door and gestured her inside with a slight incline of her head.

"Do I want to know what you're up to, dear?" she drawled, dropping into the chair and beginning to remove her impressive boots.

Rosemary scampered in happily, closing the door and flopped onto her stomach on the bed facing Regina. The brunette noted the presumptuousness with a raised eyebrow but let it go and returned to her task. The blonde propped hands under chin and watched, rapt, as a long boot slowly slid off Regina's leg. She ignored the question. "Do you mind if I watch? I hope you don't. I sooo love your boots, Your Majesty. Especially you in them. And out of them."

Regina shrugged. "I would have thought by now you'd have found yourself someone else to watch ... _slide their boots off_?" she tilted an eyebrow rakishly until the young woman flushed.

"You are such a tease, Your Majesty," she giggled. "Besides, who else would I pursue?"

"There are plenty of lovely young creatures flitting around the castle who might catch your eye, my dear," Regina argued, dropping the footwear to the floor with a light thud and moving on to her other boot. "What about Marjory the herbalist? Or Rupert who repairs the coaches?"

"Please," Rosemary huffed, "Why would I ever settle for less than royalty?" She giggled again.

Regina rolled her eyes. "Well at least you're honest. Most suitors at least try to pretend it's my winning looks or personality that's my allure," she smirked.

"Oh no! I didn't mean to say..." Rosemary looked flustered. "I mean you are also _very beautiful_." She looked completely sincere and slightly stricken.

Regina swallowed a smile. _Ah the desperate intensity of youth._ She flicked brown eyes down to the paper bag beside the bed.

"What have you got there?" she asked as the second boot slid off.

"Oh! I almost forgot. Mama thought you might like to try her famous stuffed figs. A fresh batch she just made. But you weren't here so I thought I'd wait and then I got a little sleepy," she said sheepishly.

She slipped a ceramic dish wrapped in cloth out of the bag and lay it down near Regina, and then carefully unfolded the cotton covering.

The smell was intoxicating and the brunette's nostrils twitched in anticipation.

Rosemary held the glistening dish up under the mayor's nose. "Try one," she offered. "To quote a rather famous legend around here, figs are the next best thing to ... _oh_…_um_..."

Regina's eyebrows rose.

The blonde blushed. "_You know_..."

Regina's lips twitched.

Rosemary blushed even harder and looked down as if finally remembering who she was talking to. "_Never mind_," she whispered hotly.

Regina certainly did 'know', but it was not something she'd ever expected a palace servant to raise with her. She gently steered the topic away from allusions to female anatomy, slightly impressed by the outrageous gall of her flirty visitor.

"And who is this legend?" she asked dryly.

"Oh you wouldn't know her - she's been dead for a lifetime. Her name was Red."

Regina swallowed a smile. "And is this Red a hero of yours?"

The blonde exhaled. "She was the sexiest woman you ever saw," Rosemary said softly, fixing adoring eyes onto Regina. "She was so brave. I heard she tracked and killed 10 giant wolves plaguing our lands in a single night. She was a beauty no one could tame," she finished with an impressed sigh at Red's heroics. She lifted a plump, moist fig to her lips and leaned forward, well inside the brunette's space.

Taking a bite out of the slippery fruit, she added as an afterthought. "And she was a man-eater."

Regina leaned in even closer and husked: "And who do you eat, dear?"

Rosemary choked and her cheeks became bright red. Her eyes widened.

"You are _so bad,_ Your Majesty," she sputtered when her voice came back. "And you know very well my ... eating preferences," she said hoarsely. She gazed longingly into sparkling eyes.

Regina sat back, lifted a fig to her own mouth and her white teeth neatly nipped the end off, her tongue cleaning off the juice. "Mmmm. _Delicious_," she said and smiled crookedly at the blonde. "I don't know where Mother found you, but at least she has good taste."

Rosemary froze and frowned. "What do you mean? Where the queen found me?"

The brunette waved her hand. "Oh it doesn't matter, I'm not angry. I know it's all a game to her, finding people to try and seduce me. You are the most entertaining choice to date."

She nibbled on the fig some more and realised her companion had fallen silent. She glanced up. Hurt blue eyes regarded her. "You think Her Majesty put me up to this?" she asked tightly. "That I would let myself be ... used ... like that?"

Regina swallowed. Ah... Oh. "Well, I ... she ... The stable boy…"

Rosemary hissed angrily, interrupting: "I thought you were different! Coming downstairs and talking to us every day in the kitchen and being all friendly like you're one of us. But I should have realised you're just like _them_. The hoity-toity upstairs always think us servant girls are all tarts. Well I am _not_ some tramp. I don't throw myself at just anyone, and _never_ under orders."

She stood to go, eyes flashing. "Keep the figs, Your Majesty. I am sure they're the last you'll ever get from my mama."

"Wait. No! I..." Regina began. "_Rose_!"

"Only my friends call me that, Majesty," she scowled, snapping her hands to hips, blue eyes sparking furiously.

Regina bit her lip. "Rosemary," she corrected, "I have a complicated relationship with my mother. She likes to play games with me and I get very used to seeing traps all around me. And sometimes there are none. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar."

The blonde's forehead crinkled in confusion. "Cigar? What are you talking about? I didn't know you smoked."

"Sit," Regina sighed. "I don't smoke, dear. And I really think all this is a mistake. Please." She indicated the edge of the bed with her hand.

Rosemary flicked a wounded look at her and sat, arms crossed. "Clarice warned me not to get messed up with royals. She'd know," she grumbled. "She has to wait on that stupid King George."

Regina's mouth dropped open.

"You know someone in the king's palace?"

"Not just the palace. The inner court. She's my best friend. Our mothers were friends before we were even born."

Regina's lips curved into a Cheshire cat smile, scarcely believing her luck. "My dear, do you think you could introduce me some time?" she purred.

Rosemary stared at her, outraged. "And why would I want to do that, Your Majesty?"

_Good point. _Regina considered her options. She could just demand it of the girl. Old Regina certainly would have. But as she looked at the pained blue eyes, she found she couldn't be that person again.

She wondered what Emma would do. _Ah, yes. Honesty. _

_Well, it couldn't hurt._

"I don't have many friends," Regina began. _Or_ any, she amended to herself. "I did rather like counting you as one." She gave her a winning smile. "I find you amusing, dear, and I honestly can't say that about many people. You're also extremely good for my ego, which I always vastly appreciate," she added with a self-deprecating smirk, eyeing her from under her lashes.

Rosemary was melting faster than an ice floe in a heat wave. Regina smiled.

"Anyway," she concluded endearingly, "it would mean a lot to me if I could meet your friend, even for a few minutes."

Rosemary appeared overwhelmed. Her chest puffed out proudly – which was quite the sight. Regina's eyes were briefly sidetracked.

"Well I can do better than that," Rosemary replied happily, apparently in a forgiving mood. "Clarice comes here next week with King George's men. For the announcement. And she will have a lot of free time available after the party. I will make sure you can talk for as long as you like."

Regina stared. She knew about the party for King George, of course. It was all anyone was talking about in the kitchen, but …

"Announcement?"

This time Rosemary was the one whose mouth dropped open. "I thought surely you knew? Their majesties Queen Cora and King George are getting engaged."

. . . . . . .

Regina leaned against the balcony outside her mother's bedroom and watched the skies. Today's pointless exercise at reminding the younger woman of her place entailed visually tracking her mother's scout birds. It was absurd. They weren't called scout birds for no reason. All her mother had to do was summon them and replay the footage to see what they were up to.

Still, Regina dutifully obeyed and watched, bored. She could see one in the distance, a tiny, tiny speck, near Scapulus's rock formation and kept her eye on it. Suddenly a black blur appeared out of nowhere and she realised her old friend had just found a squirming mess of boar. She watched, torn between fascinated and appalled. The horrifying sound of the kill reached her, delayed due to the distance, and she looked away in disgust.

She glanced back over the valley that spread before her. It was so desolate. To think she'd once found it suited her. She stared bleakly into the distance. Only at dawn was this place ever a thing of beauty.

Her mother appeared at her side, spotting the brunette suppressing a yawn.

"Am I boring you, dear?" she asked observing her daughter closely.

"Was that your plan?" Regina countered evenly.

"So suspicious, Daughter," Cora said, waving her hand. "I have no plans afoot that I know of."

"Beyond getting married," Regina retorted. "I hear congratulations are in order. You'll finally get to be a real queen."

"Careful daughter. You were doing so well," the older woman snapped warningly, her steely voice tinged with anger.

Regina realised she'd struck a little closer to the nerve than she'd intended. She supposed it made sense her mother was a little touchy that both times she'd ascended the throne it had been through illegitimate and illegal means. No wonder she'd latched onto King George.

She dropped the edge out of her tone and stared into the distance as she asked quietly: "When were you going to tell me?"

"I felt sure your new friends in the kitchen would inform you of all that is happening," Cora noted with a thin smile. "Did you think I didn't know what you're doing down there? Like a little cockroach, scurrying around, scooping up their dropped scraps of gossip."

Regina shrugged. "I was bored."

"Oh yes, dear, I'm sure _that's_ why you have been slumming it."

Before Regina could reply, Cora continued: "You will be required to see the seamstress for a fitting as my matron of honour."

The brunette leaned forward over the railing and replied neutrally: "I am gathering this is not optional."

Cora leaned across into Regina's space, her tone low and cold. "I have taken you in and given you a second chance despite that violent lover of yours trying to kill me. The least you can do is stand at my side and _look_ like you're happy. Beyond that, I don't care what you do. And I most certainly do not care how you feel about that or anything else. So, no, Daughter, this is _not_ optional."

Regina digested that. Well at least she finally knew why her mother had taken her in. Not a good look getting married with no one on your side of the aisle. Her mother always did fret excessively about appearances.

Then the rest of her diatribe sunk in. "She's not my lover," Regina objected placidly.

"Of course not," Cora mocked. "She means nothing to you. Which is why you weep over her each day in the privacy of your room."

Regina froze and felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

Cora lowered her voice. "I told you I'd be watching."

The older woman sighed and pinned her with a long-suffering look. "Honestly, Regina, it's time you moved on. And I won't have you still mooning miserably over her when I walk down the aisle. You will snap out of this and you will look _delighted_."

"Yes mother," Regina whispered, staring coldly out at the landscape.

Cora softened her tone. "Despite what you may think, I am doing this for us. Shoring up our position. George has an army and he's not afraid to use it. I have magic that can help him. Together we can be the power in these lands. You understood that once, although, typically you did take it to a ridiculous extreme. Is what I am doing really so troubling? We will rule vast kingdoms and want for nothing."

Regina remained silent and stared off into the distance. Her mind wandered as she remembered. She had understood that lust for power once, and it still scared her a little. She had felt out of control, always afraid she was about to be usurped which drove her to be crueller and more ferocious. It was a vicious cycle. So yes, it was troubling. Her eye fell on a shape she had not noticed sitting there before.

"What on earth is so much more fascinating out there than our plans for the future," Cora snapped.

Regina pointed halfway down the canyon, on a sandy ridge, almost in line with Scapulus's nest but on the other side. A huge trebuchet sat in position, glowing faintly from a protection spell keeping it safe from being attacked.

It was the first time she'd seen it, and she realised due to its clever positioning amid the rocky outcrops, it was probably only visible to those inside the castle. "Are we at war already?" she asked, anxiety skittering up her spine.

"Not yet, daughter," Cora said, and glanced to where she pointed. "First I have a grand wedding to plan. Then, under the terms of our treaty that will be signed on my wedding day, the wars can begin. I am just moving all the pieces into place now."

It was like a large-scale chess game to her, Regina mused. An image of King George came to mind and she remembered the man vibrating with anger, preparing to execute James before she'd stepped in to steal him. He was cold, calculating, determined, and ambitious. A lot like her mother. Maybe they were a good match. A thought struck her and she blurted it before she could stop herself.

"Do you love him at all? Even just a little?" Regina asked curiously, turning to look at her mother's lined face for the first time. She impulsively reached over and squeezed her hand, feeling the coldness and unexpected frailty, trying to express what she was really asking. _Did she have any humanity?_ _Any at all?_

She thought she could possibly forgive her mother some things if she was just capable of love for her husband-to-be. It would be a sign there was something inside her that was faintly human.

Her mother stared at her oddly. "I thought by now you'd surely have gotten that ridiculous notion out of your head, daughter." She pulled her hand away. "Fools marry for love. I marry for power. For greatness."

She looked at her daughter incredulously for a long beat then strode away.

Regina gazed unseeingly at the horizon. Of course she didn't love him. What the hell had she been thinking? Her mother doesn't do love. She does alliances and deals and politics. It had been madness to ask. No wonder she'd looked at her like she was a fool. Regina felt sickened by her own stupidity. She'd lost focus for a second and now her mother knew she was a fraud.

. . . . . . .

Many days had passed and Cora had been acting strangely. Regina constantly kicked herself for her revealing question. How could she convince her mother she was a daughter worthy of sheltering, when she asked a foolish love-sick question like that?

The brunette got the impression her mother was actively avoiding her ever since.

Regina was lying in bed, having one of her misery mornings, eyes reddened, when she saw a flash of pastel-coloured silks at the windowed doors outside.

She sat up in bed and watched as her mother tried to open the door to enter her room. It was locked of course – it had been ever since the wolf made an appearance.

Regina jumped up to unlock the door for her.

Before she could reach it, her mother flung out her hand. Magic blasted the lock apart and she strode in, imperiously.

"Sit," she ordered her daughter.

Regina hesitantly slid back onto her bed and eyed the woman nervously.

Cora sat on the edge of the bed and looked at her closely.

"I have been wondering, daughter," she began conversationally, "whether you miss your father's things."

Regina's eyebrows shot up.

"Or the cottage?" she continued with a smile. "That did seem rather cosy. A perfect little love nest, really."

"I have all I need here, mother," Regina replied cautiously.

"I see," Cora said with satisfaction. "So you don't miss anything … or anyone at that little shack?"

"Anyone? Emma will be long gone," Regina queried in confusion.

"Actually, dear, my scout birds show she stayed. Maybe she was missing someone after all? Waiting for them to come back? Pining away over you? Clearly you're not nearly as cruel as you think."

Regina blinked rapidly. _She didn't?! Oh Emma. That stubborn…_

"But as you say, you don't miss your little cottage."

"N-no mother," Regina whispered.

"Good. I had it destroyed," Cora said matter-of-factly, examining her fingernails.

Regina chomped violently hard on the inside of her mouth not to react, and tasted blood. She felt bile rise at the back of her throat. _Show no reaction._

_Maybe she was lying? … Oh god._

"I have rendered my daughter mute? Ah, but I still see … _doubts_?" Cora asked blandly. She snapped her fingers and a scout bird flew in, landing on the bed between them. She made a gesture and it began to play footage.

Regina could see the cottage. The screen fritzed for a moment and she saw silent vision of a furious Emma, her mouth contorting in rage, up close. _Oh she'd missed her – even angry, she was just so… Emma._ Her heart clenched. And the brunette didn't need to be a lip reader to know the blonde had just cursed her mother in a spectacularly crude fashion. Any other time she might have smirked at her typical fearlessness – especially given Cora's current lemon-sucking face and rigid, disapproving posture. She silently cheered.

Regina then watched as Emma turned and slammed the cottage door. The screen fritzed again for just a split second. Suddenly a black round shape – a glowing, magically crackling trebuchet fireball - blurred furiously through the frame and then smashed right into the middle of the cottage. The explosion was immense.

The next frame showed rubble and a flattened smoking ruin. No signs of life. There was no way at all Emma could have survived that.

_No hope at all._

Cora twisted her fingers and the bird stopped playback. She gave another gesture and it flew away.

"You have been distracted since you got here. Distracted by her. The fact you still foolishly believe in love tells me you are not the daughter I need at my side if I am to fulfil my destiny. I will have no daughter of mine pining after that piece of trash.

She sighed as though her heart was heavy. "Regina, dear, I am not trying to be harsh. It's just you always were weak. I did this for your own good. I will not have divided loyalties. Now you have only one family to focus on – your own blood," she said and patted her hand. Her skin was cold.

"Which reminds me, I didn't think the photos of that child were helpful, either. A tether to a life you must forget. So I destroyed them, too."

Regina automatically leapt to her feet and rushed to a painting hanging on the wall, her heart pounding as she felt behind it. The pouch of Henry's pictures had been a comfort she found each evening before bed. She would gaze most at the photo of him as a baby. Remembering how it had felt the day he was placed in her arms.

Her mother had found it. She knew even before her questing hand came away empty – how else would her mother know about them?

"Mother!" she gasped. _No! It was all she had left of him._

"You will thank me one day," Cora said indifferently, ignoring her daughter's outraged look and visibly trembling hands now twisting in anguish.

She rose and snatched Regina's chin between a pinched thumb and forefinger, jerking devastated brown eyes up to hers. She growled suspiciously: "Answer me one question, daughter: Why are you here? If you loved that woman, and that child, then why? Why here, why now, with _me_?"

Regina shook her head and said brokenly: "This land is not safe for a child. And she was supposed to have gone home to raise my ... him. So where _else_ would I go? I am in exile. Hunted and hated for the curse. I _have_ nowhere else."

Cora stared at her hard. She finally gave a tight nod, seemingly accepting the explanation.

"Fine. But just in case you forget your place and start making vengeful little plans against me – hear me well: I know where to find him, too. You have only one loyalty now. And that is to ME."

She let her hand fall and brushed it down her dress. Her eyes flicked a faintly disgusted look back to Regina.

"Now clean yourself up then join me for breakfast. You look a mess."

Cora wafted out through the windowed doors, banging them shut. They didn't stay that way for long, because the lock was now broken.

Just like Regina.

She watched the doors in a state of shock as one blew open and banged angrily against the wall. She felt the bleakness enter her. The anguish.

She stifled a sob that rose up. Her thoughts jumbled around, chaotic and strange, like they belonged to someone else.

Suddenly her old demon vulture's words came to mind. The wooden man was on the move. Scapulus's name for the trebuchet. Regina's eyes narrowed. She felt a white fury building as she realised her mother had planned this even before she had entered the castle. Cora had just been waiting to get her magic back to full strength to power the enormous device.

Her mother had once vowed to Emma she would kill her and now she had. She might dress it up as being in Regina's interests – didn't she always pretend everything evil was _her_ fault? - but her destructive plan had always been the same.

Regina crushed another sob and rubbed her face. She pulled her hands away and stared.

They were wet from tears. Proof this had really happened. _Her Emma was dead._ The woman who thought she was beautiful despite the things her mother had done to her. The only person who had ever made love to her. The only one who looked at her like she was _worthy_ of love.

And her mother had just ended her with the snap of her fingers.

She pictured the blonde sitting alone at the cottage, waiting hopefully for Regina to come back to her. Not believing the letter, her faith too strong. Her love trapping her there when she should have run home to Henry.

_Oh god, Henry_. She pictured the expression on his small face when he found out his beloved Emma was dead.

_Emma was dead._

_Her_ beloved Emma was dead.

She couldn't contain the sob this time. Or the heartsick, guttural wail.

She felt it then, the hammering in her head, behind her clenched eyelids. The rage. A black, dark, snaking coldness that told her one thing with absolute certainty.

_Cora Mills was going to end. _

Her eyes darkened and she felt a power stir inside her that she had not felt for years. It bubbled up and crackled along her nerve endings, sparking from her pores.

Regina's vengeful resolve grew. Her hands clenched and she raked her tears away viciously, so viciously salt water sprayed the bed.

_Salty_. Oh. A tiny part of her brain finally understood.

The rest of her brain had different, darker thoughts in mind.

Regina Coralina Mills smiled.

It was not a pretty sight.

.

**Author's note: Thanks for reading. Kudos to all the sharp-eyed readers who recognised the balcony moment as the mirror image scene of what Emma saw from below. Next week's update may be delayed as I will be out of action for health reasons. Please feed the pigeons if you get a chance. :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**A LEDGER SQUARED IN BLOOD**  
**By Scribes and Scrolls**

**.**

**Author's note: Thanks for all your kind wishes in the reviews. I survived, obviously. LOL. **

**This chapter comes with a small WARNING: A tiny bit of rough hanky panky, albeit unintentionally non-consensual by the perpetrator. **

**Special thanks this week to my beta reader, indiana, who helped enormously when the post-op drugs were addling my brain, resulting in streams of glorious writing drivel. I hope she excised it all. You be the judge. ;-)  
**

**.**

**CHAPTER 8: SECRETS AND LIES  
**

Regina stood, silhouetted in the dawn light, and gazed at the charred, desolate remains of her cottage. She turned, taking in the devastation. Complete. Absolute. Final.

Bile clawed at her throat. Her fingers trembled, so she smoothed them across her ribs, holding herself.

Her boot kicked aside burned cinders where her wardrobe had stood. _Daddy's shoes_. She felt a new stab of loss. She should have taken them. But what difference would it have made? Her mother would have only destroyed those, too.

Her eyes tracked to a particular spot. She didn't want to look, but couldn't not either. Her bed. _Their bed. _It had sat on the burnt ground, right there. She stumbled towards it and slowly sank to her haunches. She ran a shaky hand through the film of ashes.

Wetness streaked her face and it took a moment for her to work out why it was damp. She hated herself for the weakness. Charcoal lines scribbled across her cheeks as she smeared the salt water away.

She hadn't wanted to come and face this. But she feared never knowing for sure if she hadn't. She had deliberately chosen to walk the whole distance. She'd left in the early hours so no one would see her leave, needing to feel the burn and strain in her thighs and direct her fire towards propelling her body onwards.

She needed that time to creep up on the devastation, to ready herself. As she strode relentlessly, radiating rage and despair, no creature - deathclaw, demon vulture or wolf - had dared come near.

As she parted the last shrub, it came into view. The muscles screaming from her bruising pace fell silent as she stopped cold and gazed.

It was real.

Cora had not lied.

Her eyes raked over the scorch marks and flattened ruin and she finally knew the truth. _She _was gone. She only wished she possessed a spell to exhume Emma's ashes and give her a proper burial.

Instead Regina stared at her soot-stained hands and tried to think of something to say to honour the ghosts beneath her boots.

"I'm sorry," she tried to say. Her voice came out a broken croak.

Her hands twisted into white fists. _Hell_.

Her rage was building and she could feel it roiling and twisting, bubbling just under her skin. Oh, she remembered this feeling. It was like a familiar old black cloak she used to curl around herself in darker days. A friend which gave her the courage to crush and hurt and to look coldly at pitiful creatures pleading wordlessly for mercy and grind them into the dirt.

Regina felt a shiver of uncertainty for the first time. Indecision. She shook her head at her weakness and jumped furiously to her feet.

She felt the crackling of energy along her arms and spun, effortlessly letting loose a vicious fiery blast. A nearby tree erupted into flames and smashed to the ground with an almighty whine and crash. The whine had sounded almost human. Regina's lips bared.

_Good. That felt good._

She turned and blasted a nearby boulder. It sheared off into two enormous halves. She felt the tingles now, skittering up her arms in an almost feverish sensation - the power, unbridled and raw. She felt like a god. Or a demon. Her eyes fluttered half closed.

A large tree in her periphery caught her attention and she pivoted, arm lifting, fingertips magically arcing and crackling. She heard the faint gasp at the same time she detected a flicker of movement.

Her head whipped around to pin malevolent eyes on the shadows.

"Who's there!" she snarled. She twisted her arm, showing the live ball of fire nestled in her hand to her furtive spy.

"I... it's only me, Your Majesty," a small female voice said softly. "It's Rosemary."

Regina raised her arm higher, enjoying the cold rage. _It would be so easy._

The girl's eyes widened and she cried out in fear.

The fear stoked her higher. Regina felt the familiar power. It surged and ebbed along her veins, an almost sexual thrill.

_So, so easy to just..._

Rosemary's hands twisted in knots in front of a simple cotton pinafore. She shivered. Was it from cold or fear? Regina couldn't tell. She didn't care.

"You followed me," she spat. "Did my moth... Cora send you?" Her arm drew back menacingly. Daring her to lie.

"Of course not," the girl protested indignantly. "I wanted to make sure you..."

Regina let the fireball die, deciding a more tactile approach was warranted with this creature. "What?" she glared as she strode over, wrapping her fingers around the blonde's throat. She squeezed cruelly. Just as her mother had done to her so many times before._ Like mother, like daughter_, a little voice mocked inside her head. She growled and dropped the vicious hand with a scowl.

"What?" she repeated, her eyes flashing, face dangerously close. Their breaths mingled.

"I saw you leave," Rosemary rasped. "I rose early to put up some bread. You seemed so troubled. I felt afraid for you - it was as if you were possessed." Her delicate white hands slid up her neck and rubbed her abused throat. Red fingermarks contrasted brutally on the skin. It looked painful. Regina eyed them coldly and wondered why she had even noticed.

It wasn't like her.

She grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked the blonde's head back sharply so they were looking into each other's eyes.

"Well now you have had a nice, good look at me," she said, mouth curving into a nasty mockery of a smile. "I'm fine, as you can see. You can leave now." She released the hair suddenly, shoved her away and stepped back, glaring.

Regina's chest was heaving with rage, her bodice cut low and severe, biting into her ribs. The pain was good. It reminded her of her old self. Her dark leather pants and thigh-high boots clung to legs striking an obnoxiously arrogant pose. She was the picture of magnificent wrath. No one would cross her. No one would dare.

"No."

The voice was small but determined.

Regina's eyes flung wide open and her scarlet lips thinned into a cruel line.

"S-sorry," Rosemary said fearfully, "but you're my friend, Majesty. You said so yourself. And I think you need my help. So, I'm staying."

"Are you now, dear? To do what?" Regina's eyes challenged. Fingertips twitched against leather-clad hips.

_It would still be so easy. A single flick and the defiant woman's battered body would be crumpled at her feet and trouble her no more.  
_  
The thought gave her surprisingly little comfort.

Regina frowned.

"Whatever you need me for," the blonde said obstinately. A suddenly hopeful expression crossed her face. "Would you like to assault some more trees? I will sit with you while you do."

Regina stared in surprise. She felt her rage slowly ebbing away. _Hell_. She shook her head. It was impossible to stay enraged at the pathetic, earnest creature with huge eyes. The blonde irritated her, that much she knew. _She should not be able to be undone so easily. Was it a trick?_

Wide blue eyes gazed at her, with almost... Regina swore inwardly as she reluctantly identified the expression ... _affection_. Her nostrils flared in disgust.

The tiniest sliver of humanity that remained in her blackening heart began to swell and spread. _No. No, no, no. She was supposed to wreak her magnificent vengeance. All would quake before her. _**  
**  
The annoying blonde wasn't quaking.

Regina felt the minute emotional shifts inside herself and began to panic.

_Love is a weakness._

Hate is power.

She repeated it like a mantra.

_And yet. _Tears pricked her eyes and she turned away in shame. _Oh for god's sake. Not now. Not in front of her._

But it was too late. The dam walls were beginning to break.

She felt an arm hesitantly ... daringly ... slide a little way around her waist and a small voice say "I was so worried about you, Your Majesty. You're not yourself."

The brunette felt her fury kick in anew, one final push-back - her pride outraged at being a servant's pity case. She wrenched the hand off her and heard herself spit back in a venomous tone: "Then you know _nothing _about me. Has no one in the palace told you who I used to be? Who I _really _am?"

_She couldn't possibly like her if she really knew her. Her own mother didn't even want her._

Rosemary bit her lip but seemed as stubborn as she was dedicated in her mission to salve Regina's broken soul.

"Of course they did. I have always known. It's just I didn't believe them," she whispered, stepping closer again with a determined expression. "I _still _don't. How could you be the Evil Queen? I have seen your heart. The kindness with which you treated me. You could have kicked me aside many times when I sought you out. You actually worried about letting me down gently. And you took care that Mama wouldn't know. Are these the actions of someone evil?"

Regina laughed coldly and tried edging away. "Oh that. Yeah, well I'm over it." She snapped her fingers carelessly and a sizzling pop sounded, as latent magical energy surfaced.

"So you say," countered a soft voice. Closer now. _How did she get that close?_

Regina's nostrils flared. Her soul wanted to believe.

"I think,"Rosemary continued gently, "_this_ is the old you. Someone you're not any more, no matter how hard you try to be her."

Regina's head snapped in indignant rage and this time Rosemary stepped back, startled.

"You don't know me," the brunette hissed furiously. "You're little more than a kitchen servant who doesn't know her place. You know _nothing_."

"I can see you're very angry, Your Majesty..."

"_Angry_?" Regina spat. "What the _hell _do you think we're standing in?" She was vibrating with fury.

The blonde's face creased in confusion.

Regina roared: "This is a GRAVEYARD! Someone died here. A woman who was loyal and brave and beautiful and flawed and ... _perfect_." Her voice cracked.

"And she loved me," she added in dark wonder, after a pause, staring at the skies.

She glanced at her feet, finally admitting softly: "And I love her."

Regina swung her eyes over to Rosemary, face filled with pain. Challenging her. Daring her to try and make _that _right with empty, soothing words.

"It was your mother wasn't it?" the blonde asked gently.

She didn't wait for the answer - Regina's anguished expression was response enough - and reached forwards once again inside her personal space. She slowly wrapped both arms around her, gathering her into a comforting hug.

Regina found herself allowing it. And then before she could stop herself she was suddenly sobbing, sobbing against the soothing curves of a mere palace servant.

"My m-mother killed her," she ground out at last, almost to herself. Rosemary held her tighter._  
_  
Finally the tears no longer came. Raw and exposed, the brunette pulled away in embarrassment. She could feel Rosemary watching her and finally lifted her jaw.

"You will tell no one of this," she threatened in her most evil voice.

"No majesty, of course not," Rosemary said earnestly.

After a moment they simply stood there in silence, as if unsure what to do next.

It was Rosemary who broke the silence. She eyed the brunette curiously. "You're going to kill her, aren't you? That's why you want to meet my friend? It's why you come to the kitchen each day. You are planning vengeance."

Regina's eyes narrowed and snapped her head up, locking eyes. "Now why would anyone who wants to live a long and healthy life ever want to know the answer to that question?" she asked coldly.

"Are you threatening me, Majesty?" Rosemary replied curiously, as if puzzled.

Regina exhaled. "No," she said harshly, "Rosemary, I am protecting you. And listen to me closely: Do not ask that question ever again, nor breathe the thought that surrounds it to a soul."

Rosemary nodded, understanding. "I will not. I would never."

"Good."

Regina dusted off her pants. She started to walk away and Rosemary scampered after her, stumbling slightly over the uneven ground like an overly-enthusiastic puppy.

"I could help you," the blonde said in a breathy rush. "With your plot."

"What plot?" Regina ground out.

"The one we're not discussing."

"And why would you want to do that?"

"Because you need help. You can't do it alone. I can help you. And what the queen did was monstrous. But then I shouldn't be surprised," Rosemary muttered darkly.

That got the brunette's attention. "What do you mean? What has she done?"

"Ever noticed how many more wolves prowl your lands lately, Majesty?"

Regina thought about it. She had seen brown blurs streaking across the landscape on the mornings when she'd watch the Canyon of Light's dawn displays but hadn't really thought much beyond noting the animals were there.

"Not really," she finally said. "Why?"

"There are dark rumours," Rosemary said, tone very serious, "the animals talk of it often. Whenever Queen Cora is displeased with a servant she turns them into a wolf and banishes them to the wilderness."

Regina gaped, then quickly hid her expression. The desolate wilderness was a harsh enough fate. To face it as a wolf...

"I used to think it was just idle gossip," the blonde continued, "Until Elisa Capshaw stopped coming to work. And she had a family of eight children to tend. Eight! Two of them barely out of the crib. And she just disappeared. And then a wolf would come and sit and stare at her cottage for days, and people said it was her. When the Queen heard, she arrived one morning and caught the wolf and took a pitchfork and drove it through its body. Then just left it there, twitching and crying and howling in agony for all to see. And why would she do that if it wasn't Elisa?"

Regina felt her anger stirring once more.

"The servants all are in terror of her," Rosemary whispered. "She was mean and cruel to them anyway, cutting food rations when she was displeased, but after that wicked day this place became known as a 'palace of darkness and demons'."

The brunette nodded abruptly.

"So it would be a blessing for all of us if she was ... no longer around?" the blonde observed, phrasing her words carefully. "And I could help you. Clarice could help you, too."

"You do realise what you're talking about?" Regina said after a pause, making sure the girl knew exactly what she was saying. "Treason is punishable by the death of yourself AND your loved ones."

Rosemary inclined her head placidly, her innocence a surprisingly effective disguise. "I didn't think we were talking about anything at all, Majesty. Isn't that so?"

Regina snorted in surprised laughter. "Well aren't you the brave one," she declared eyeing the girl with fondness. "Now come on, let's head back. I'll teleport us. Take my hand." She held hers out and felt the warmth of the other woman's fingers linking through hers. She suddenly paused and glanced hard at blue eyes. "Rosemary, how did you just waltz through all my deadly security measures as well as deathclaw territory unscathed?"

Rosemary shrugged. "A friend took me."

"Who?" the brunette snapped, looking around warily for an intruder.

"The palace wolf."

"Why would it want to do that?" the brunette asked. "Wolves hate me."

"They don't hate _me_," the servant replied nonchalantly. "He said he was going my way as he wanted to meet some friends. There's a wolf pack somewhere around here that he knows."

Regina sighed, her head suddenly pounding. She shook her head. _All too hard. _"OK, let's go," she muttered. There was a blinding flash and they were gone.

…..

"So, _you're _the royal my friend Rose is gone on?"

Regina's nostrils flared at the insolent question. She found herself staring into the intelligent green eyes of a freckled, rotund woman in her early 30s with a shock of long red hair and a dire explosion of colour swathed around her. _Why wear one colour when fifteen will do, _Regina's outraged style sensibilities mocked.

_Clarice, obviously._ She bit back her first retort and cocked an eyebrow, then inclined her head wordlessly towards a private drawing room.

She headed for it, assuming the other woman would follow. She heard the hesitation and then heavy footfalls of fuchsia-coloured sandals stomping behind her.

The engagement party was in full swing and Regina had already worked the room like a master politician. She had greeted King George with respectful small talk, under Cora's watchful eye, neither of them giving any sign of their previous encounters which had been characterised by threats, prisoner stealing and cockiness. _Another time, another persona_, she mused of herself. The king seemed to respect that, as he, too, regarded her watchfully but politely, saying little.

She had schmoozed the king's men, too, quickly working out who among them were the loyal leaders, and the ones whose tongues would loosen with the liberal consumption of the flowing mead.

And now, her eyes scaled up and down the voluminous riot of hues before her, she had finally met the one and only Clarice.

"Oh don't look at me like that, your highness," the other woman snorted, waving her hands airily as she sank onto a chair. "I don't work for you. And besides, if you want me to help you, you'll first have to convince me of a few things."

"Such as?" Regina asked, placing hands on thighs as she sat opposite her. She ignored, for now, the complete disrespect on display.

"Such as your intentions towards Rose? She is my oldest and dearest friend. I won't have her toyed with just because you can."

Regina's eyes widened, re-evaluating the woman in front of her. She was feisty and loyal. She would not be easily pushed aside. She reminded her a lot of a certain annoying bounty hunter who turned her world upside down. A part of her admired this rude creature. But it was a small part. Not that she'd let it show.

_Perhaps, where vinegar fails, honey works?_ She gave her most winning smile and opened her mouth, leaning forward.

Clarice held up her hand disdainfully. "Save it. Why don't you park your charms and just be honest?"

Regina glared. "Fine. I like Rosemary but I have no intentions of screwing her or screwing her over. Is that plain enough for you?"

The other woman smiled, a knowing look in her eyes. "Now we're getting somewhere. And you're here because you want some dirt on your mother's fiancé?"

Regina's expression dropped and became guarded. Had Rosemary been that indiscreet? When Cora got word of this she'd...

"Oh don't look so shocked," Clarice sighed as if Regina was the last in a long line of fools she'd suffered this day. "It stands to reason. Let's not pretend that's not why you're here. And while Rose might be innocent and sweet, I am none of these things. I can smell a plotter or a schemer a mile off. So if I tell you what I know, then what?"

"You have something?" Regina asked, attempting nonchalance.

"I might," Clarice said slowly. "_Your Majesty_," she added the last bit after an insultingly long pause.

The brunette's jaw worked. A younger Regina would have dangled this insolent creature over the balcony until she pleaded for mercy. She smiled at that thought. But... she was Rosemary's best friend.

_Fine_.

"OK – yes, I want to know. So tell me," Regina ground out.

"First," the redhead put up a stilling hand again, a cacophony of bangles clanging loudly. "What do you plan to do with this information?"

Regina thought about how much to reveal. Clarice was annoying, but she was definitely shrewd, fashion choices notwithstanding. And she seemed to have Emma's eerily accurate inbuilt lie detector. She needed this. But she wasn't good at trusting people. Not with secrets that mattered. The Snow child had scarred her for life. She weighed up for a long moment and finally took a risk.

"What if I said destroying their alliance is something I'd find of great interest?" Regina asked so quietly Clarice had to bend forward to catch the words.

The redhead gave a pleased smirk and nodded. "I'd hoped you'd say that. Your mother, no offense, is the worst kind of darkness and her alliance with my king can only be a bad thing for our realm. For many realms. I want it broken. Many of us do. If I tell you what I know, you will promise none of this will ever come back to hurt Rose?"

"You want me to just protect Rosemary? Not you?"

Clarice spoke passionately: "I can take care of myself. But Rose is special. She's sweet. And she certainly doesn't deserve to have her heart broken or life sacrificed by some scheming royal. No offense, Your Highness."

Regina smiled coldly. "None taken, dear," she said with fake sweetness. She leaned forward well into Clarice's space, curious now. "My, my, so jaded for one so young. Were you ever just a happy sweet girl, my dear?" she baited her.

"Were _you_?" Clarice retorted sharply, glaring.

Regina hissed in a breath. Images of a life long past, long dead to her flitted past her eyes and she felt the sadness stab her anew. She had been Rosemary, once, she realised. It was why she felt so protective of her.

Clarice had been waiting, measuring her. Finally she nodded. "That's what I thought," the other woman said quietly. "We've all been there. Life deals us hard blows, changing us for the ill - some more than others," she added, giving Regina a knowing glance.

"All, that is, except for Rose. You mind her heart and keep her out of all this and you destroy this unholy alliance, and you make this vow to do these things on the head of the person you love. Or loved," she said as an afterthought as pain flicked across the brunette's face, "And I'll know if you mean it. And if you speak truly, then I will tell you everything I know."

Their eyes met and a wordless conversation took place.

"I will," Regina said solemnly.

Clarice examined her closely and then nodded once more. "So help me if word reaches my ears that anything has happened to Rose I will hunt you down and do things to you so nasty that even _you _couldn't imagine them."

Regina's mouth dropped open. That was a powerful threat indeed.

Clarice didn't wait for an answer. "King George keeps a special secret documents pouch with him. When he travels, he takes it with him. At home he locks it away and puts a guard on it."

"That could be anything," Regina countered, feeling disappointed, "Financial, affairs of state?"

The redhead shook her head viciously. "No. His advisors and court have never seen its contents either. I know. They talk. They're as curious as I am."

"And what do you think it is, dear?" the brunette's eyes warming as she considered the possibilities.

"A contract," Clarice suggested thoughtfully. "Probably selling his soul to the devil or something. It's obviously something so damning he is terrified of anyone seeing it. So much so he'd rather travel with it, despite it increasing the risk of accident or exposure, than leave it at home where we could sneak in and find it."

Regina asked: "And where will his pouch be now?"

"In his room, bottom of his luggage trunk. Where it always is."

Regina rose immediately from her chair. _There was no time to waste. _

Clarice did the same. Her voice changed to cold and calculating. "We spoke of Rosemary and her upcoming birthday. You wanted to get her something pretty because she's your favourite servant."

"We did?" Regina felt momentarily confused. Clarice sighed and rolled her eyes pointedly. "Oh," Regina nodded. "We did."

Clarice turned to go.

"Wait!"

"Yes, Your Highness?"

"_Is _it her birthday soon?"

Clarice smiled widely. "No. But now I know I made the right decision. Good evening, Your Majesty." She opened the door and left Regina standing there.

This time there was nothing but respect in the way she used her title.

. . . . . . .

Regina crept along the hallway to King George's assigned quarters. She found two of his guards at the door. Hell, she'd forgotten they'd be there. Cora never bothered with guards - who in their right minds would dare try anything against her?

She slipped back out of sight and began the difficult incantation she'd memorised, fingers rubbing against a strand of hair and a piece of silk she'd stolen from inside the lining of one of her mother's dresses. It was such a rare and extremely complicated spell she knew even Cora would never suspect her capable of it.

Within moments tendrils of smoke swirled around her body and she was transformed. She felt stiffer and bent forward, adjusting to her new shape. Then she reminded herself of who she was supposed to be.

She assumed a cocky pose, took in a long shuddery breath, and then slid elegantly down the hallway, back to George's chambers.

The guards jumped to attention.

"Your Majesty?" one said, the question unspoken but clearly implied.

"I require entrance," she announced, brooking no discussion, and made to walk forward.

"Your Highness," he intervened, stepping forward, "King George has instructed us that no one is allowed entry into his quarters. No exceptions."

"They're not HIS quarters, they're my guest quarters," Regina sneered, "I am soon to be your queen. I wish to surprise my husband-to-be on our special night. So if you like your heads where they are, you will be elsewhere. NOW!"

She lifted a hand and showed her crackling, sparking fingers and watched both men look at each other in fear.

"Queen Cora," the first one blurted, but at her death stare he quickly nodded, turned tail and fled his post, the other guard snapping into step behind him.

She quickly entered the room and looked around. The trunk. Ornate bronze snake-head detailing swirled across the metal clasp and she fell to her knees to examine it. Locked. She examined it for a while, working out which enchantment would crack it best without signs of tampering.

She lifted her hand to enact the correct unlocking spell when she heard the door behind her begin to open.

_Hell!_

Regina leapt from the floor and threw herself onto the bed, her billowy Cora dress - which matched the one her mother was wearing at the party before she'd retired half an hour ago - floating down around her. She quickly patted it down to her sides and looked up.

King George was standing in the room. Staring at her. Hard.

_Could he tell just by looking? _Regina wondered just how well the man knew his intended.

"My guards told me you had invaded my inner sanctum," he slurred.

Thank God, his mead was kicking in. She'd asked Rosemary to make sure his tankard was topped up first and often throughout the evening. It would dull his senses if nothing else.

Regina rose from the bed, uncertain whether he was angry at the intrusion. She forced a smile and stepped closer to him. _What would Cora do_, she wondered._ Ah yes. _Pander to his ego. Or, she tracked his eyes knowingly, his libido.

George inspected her up and down hungrily, taking in the deep cleavage and swell of breasts. She puffed her chest out a little and held her breath.

"I thought you didn't want to engage in conjugals this visit?" the man stated bluntly. _God, he smelled vile. _"You wanted to focus on the wedding plans, I believe you said?"

He moved up right inside Regina's space and she forced her face to hide the wince from his putrid breath. His hand snaked out without warning and raked over her breasts – well, Cora's breasts – and gave a hard squeeze.

Regina scowled on the inside. Her last sexual encounter with a king had been just as ... pleasant. She forced images of Leopold from her head and wondered how to answer that.

"Still, it's a woman's prerogative to change her mind." George saved her the effort, supplying his own narrative for her presence. He offered a leer she supposed he thought was attractive and then unceremoniously pushed his groin against hers.

Regina immediately felt the stiffness and wanted to roll her eyes. _Great, she had her mother's horny fiancé to fend off now._

She patted his arms reassuringly, surprised at the brute strength she found in his biceps. His sword arm was strong and powerful. He would not be easy to beat if it came to physical blows. Which she would make sure to avoid. Before she could speak he pushed his lips against hers, and Regina could now taste the honey mead invading her senses. She made to pull away.

Suddenly, he spun her around and slammed her hard against the wall, the force reverberating down her bones. "Or is this what you prefer, my dear," he whispered hoarsely in her ear. "_Like last time?_"

Regina, to her complete shock, felt a hand slide to her ass and bisect her cheeks through her dress's material, and rub provocatively over her rear entrance.

_Oh for God's sake, Cora liked THAT? _

Her eyes bulged as she stared at the wall. All the times her mother had lectured her on ladylike behaviour. The absurdity almost made her laugh. "My lord," she said soothingly, working out how best to get the bastard off her, "Not like that, dear."

The king snorted and resisted. "You can be such a little slut, can't you, Cora. Hiding it behind your fancy manners and regal bearing but we both know you're as common as a miller's daughter, just as I am a miner's son. And we both know how you like it. _Rough_. It's why we're such a good match. Our common _roots_."

To punctuate, he shoved his straining crotch against her ass and rubbed hard, before reaching around himself, his hand fumbling at his pants to undo the buttons. A wash of boozy stench hit her again as he leant his mouth against her ear.

Her nostrils flared at the smell and his unwelcome attention. For the first time Regina felt a sliver of fear and decided it was high time to disentangle herself from her mother's crass loved-up suitor. Even so, she registered his intriguing words. Miner's son? What 'king' is a miner's son?

She twisted around as best she could to face him, only to find the man's weight now crushing into her front, his meaty hands sliding inside her cleavage and clutching at her breast. She realised his other hand was heading for the hem of her dress and she slapped it away playfully.

"Patience, my king," she drawled in her most seductive tone. "I have no intention of getting amorous in these inferior quarters. I will take you in my bed chambers. But first," she pushed off his chest a little and affected a naughty finger waggle, "you must bathe. You smell like a brewery, my dear."

She smiled seductively to take the sting out but made it clear she was serious. His face clouded with confusion for a moment and she indicated the direction of the bathroom with a sexy smile. "I'll be waiting in my bed chambers when you're done," She winked as he stared at her slightly dumbfounded at being denied.

The brunette left his room and slipped outside, almost sprinting around the corner as fast as her mother's much older body could carry her and waited, breath bated. Sure enough, in a few moments, the king exited and lurched down the hall in the direction of the bathrooms.

She exhaled. He'd be her mother's problem for the rest of the night. The pair deserved each other. She slipped back inside and dropped to her knees in front of the trunk. She'd have to work fast in case the guards got it in their heads to check on their king or George forgot his new destination. It didn't take long to undo the lock and she lifted the lid. She pushed aside clothes, papers, a coin bag, and peered.

Nothing.

She frowned. Clarice had been so certain. She'd seen it in her eyes. She was no fool either. She took everything out of the trunk and lay the contents on the floor. Her fingers slid along the edge of the trunk's bottom and realised she could lift something. _Ah. A false bottom?_ She peered inside and worked her fingertips. Finally it lifted.

Sure enough, there lay a brown leather pouch.

With trembling fingers she slipped it open her eyes flying across the words.

Clarice was right. It was indeed a contract. Except there were two. And that signature – _that beastly signature_. Rumplestiltskin had been making more deals.

The first one was for the procurement of a son. And then an addendum for the acquisition of his twin brother. James, she presumed. It explained why the man had tried to execute him and then hissed to her that James wasn't his. Regina moved on – it was hardly relevant now. Even if the false son's existence wasn't common knowledge, it would be little more than faintly embarrassing now for the king. After all, he no longer sheltered him. No, she needed something explosive.

She slid the paper back into the pouch and pulled out the other piece of paper.

The second contract had her fingers tingling. She read it twice, scarcely believing her luck. Like father, like son. George's father had wanted a child so badly he had bought one off a destitute miner. And he'd had his wife fake a pregnancy and pretend George had always been his. Which made King George about as legitimate as her own mother was to rule a throne. The pair had obviously bonded over their common pasts at some point. Maybe her mother had found out, and that's why he'd agreed to the wedding? Blackmail, emotional or otherwise, was one of Cora's nastier specialities after all.

Regina lay the contract flat, muttered an incantation and then ran her hand across it. A magician's version of a photocopy machine. The document would stay stored in her index fingernail until she needed it again. She returned the paperwork to the trunk and restored everything to how she'd found it.

She walked out into the hallway and glanced at the clock. She didn't have much time. Impersonation spells were draining and gruelling, and lasted only a short period of time.

She quickly headed back to her room. As she passed Cora's bedroom she could hear a lusty thud and rhythmic banging noises against the wall. Clearly Cora had indeed overlooked the no-sex-before-wedding-planning rule. Regina was trying very hard not to visualise the scene. Especially given she now knew a secret about her mother she rather wished she could un-know. That might come in handy later, though.

Regina's eyes glittered. It had been a most profitable evening. As she shut the door to her bedroom she felt the tingles as her body reverted to her own appearance. She sagged onto her bed.

Tomorrow would be a most interesting day.


	9. Chapter 9

**A LEDGER SQUARED IN BLOOD  
**

**By Scribes and Scrolls  
**

**CHAPTER NINE: NEW WORLD ORDER**

Emma sat on a rocky red ledge at the very end of the ravine that flowed down from Cora's castle. She watched the people below her, chest tightening with anxiety, knowing in a few more hours she would have to play her part in this war.

And she would see Regina.

She cast that disturbing thought from her mind and took in her surroundings. To her left, beyond a copse of trees and far below she could make out their camp going up. Teams of Storybrooke townspeople worked efficiently, led by half a dozen dwarves, erecting camouflage tents in a circle. In the centre was a larger tent – headquarters most likely, and if she squinted, she could just make out the tall shape of James pointing at tasks that needed doing.

He was striding about with more direction than she could ever remember the mild-mannered animal-shelter worker displaying as David. He seemed to be relishing the role. Actually, they all did.

She'd offered to help but Grumpy had shooed her away, suggesting she leave the job to the experts. Dejected, she'd stalked off only to discover Granny sharpening makeshift wooden spears with the same ease that she plucked chickens.

She had lifted an astonished eyebrow at her, and watched as she ordered around teens and young adults with the precision of a drill sergeant.

"Do I want to know what they're for," Emma asked hesitantly, indicating the growing pile of pikes, when the grey-haired cook finally paused from barking out orders at her recruits.

"Never know when you're gonna need a good old fashioned spike pit or three," she'd replied with a slightly blood-thirsty gleam.

Emma had blinked, uncertain as to whether Granny was joking or not. The woman, wearing work pants, a dusty apron and rolled up grey sleeves, looked her up and down.

"Shouldn't you be planning for tonight?" she asked, dropping her whittling knife into an apron pocket.

"Huh?"

"Well working out what to wear to woo your woman?" Grey eyebrows rose expectantly and Emma groaned inwardly.

"She's not 'my woman', Granny," Emma ground out. "Far from it."

"Pfft," the older woman snorted. "_You_ didn't get to watch how Regina Mills changed the moment you hit town. Always asking people what you were doing, what you were up to. When you'd be here or there, watching for you in her car, timing her visits to my diner so you'd be here…"

"So you're saying she was my stalker," Emma retorted, pushing her fists into her pockets stubbornly.

Granny ignored her with a world-weary sigh she reserved for the eternally dense or her errant granddaughter. "Now you mind you wear something nice. Something that'll make her glad to see you again after all this time," she said, thinking hard.

She pointed one of her sharpened spears decisively at Emma. "Actually, you'll wear that jacket you've got on. That'll do the trick nicely."

Emma scowled and looked down at her red leathers. "She hates me in this."

"Snow tells me she darned it for you, so she can't hate it that much."

Emma frowned. _I suppose so. _

"Come and see me before you go, I have a nice cologne that'll make your Honey sweeter on you than bees."

"She's not my hone…"

It was useless. Emma sighed, aggrieved. The plump woman turned away, distracted again as she barked at some youths who had dumped more tree branches at her feet, one accidentally rolling across her boot.

"Were you dragged up, sonny?" she bellowed. "There's an old lady's foot under there!"

"S-sorry, Granny." The youth looked at her in terror and Granny smirked, glancing back to Emma.

"Gotta teach that lot who's boss, dear," she chuckled, moving away. "Now then, I'd best see to sharpening the swords."

She moved off, muttering her to-do list to herself, and heading for the armoury. Well Emma supposed it was the armoury but, really, it looked like every other tent.

Emma had already gotten lost twice trying to find the ablutions tent – the fancy word for bathrooms in fairytale boot camp – and wound up stumbling instead upon Gepetto constructing long tables and benches for the meals area.

The old man's face creased into a wide, friendly smile and Emma realised it was the happiest she'd ever seen him. She discovered why a moment later when he shifted and August had stuck his head up from his work. To hell she'd ever call him Pinocchio. He grinned and waved a saw at her and resumed his work.

"Hey, um, which way to the bath… ablutions tent?" she called out.

The old man pointed the way she'd already come and she sighed. _Why was she the only one so useless at all this? She never got lost in Boston and that was a full-on city._

Her mood only got blacker when she finally discovered where she'd be showering and toileting for god knows how long with Storybrooke's former residents.

She eyed the canvas divides and the high, bucket-water set-up for the showers. _Cold water_, she noted. The canvas walls were strung only just low enough to protect the modesty of the dwarves but she was not entirely sure they were high enough to prevent the statuesque Red from putting on a show. Although she doubted Red would care. Emma, on the other hand, decided she would wait until much, much later in the evening before testing out the facilities.

She moved over to the toilet area and sighed mightily at the basic wooden boxes with holes in them, fixed over pits in the ground and more barely-legal canvas walls. She thought fondly back to the wonders of modern civilisation that she'd left behind and wondered what on earth had made Henry so hellbent on breaking the stupid curse only to get them all to _this_.

_Henry_. Her thoughts flew to the excitable boy who, with the rest of the children and elderly, had been led by Archie and the Blue Fairy down a path to where a different tunnel would get them to the Enchanted Forest.

Henry had rushed over to her, given her a quick hug and shouted "Bye Emma, save Mom for me," then rushed back to his group as though marching through fairytale realms was an everyday event for him. His enthusiasm was _not_ catching.

She had given the ablutions block one last, sour glance_. Hell, even Regina had fitted out her little cottage with more style than this half-star travesty._

Sorrow washed across her as she remembered what they'd discovered when the townspeople had trudged out of the tunnel earlier that day. Emma had led Snow and James to where she had spent her time with Regina, pushing aside the bad memories, but almost excited because in this foreign, strange new world, here was something so achingly familiar to her.

Instead… She had recoiled in horror at what they'd found when she realised Cora had indeed enacted her threat of flattening the cottage.

Her mouth had opened and closed. She'd felt Snow's arm come around her shoulders and lead her away as the blonde uttered inane comments like "it was right _here_…"

She remembered the regret as she flicked her eyes over to the site of the kitchen table where they had shared many breakfasts and bracing mugs of Regina's bitter brew. And the bed. Where they had shared so much more…

Emma felt devastated and clenched her eyes shut. _This was wrong. So wrong._ She wondered if Regina knew what her mother had done.

Snow and James had redirected her attention by asking her the way to the ravine and Emma had pointed numbly towards the mountain. That was all it took for the leaders of the motley war band to spring into action.

She vaguely remembered her specific warnings to Snow of various obstacles ahead, but her words seemed so far away and distant. She remembered little else. Well, except for a wolf pack arriving, their small, excited bodies almost quivering in delight, and bowing low before their majesties as they vowed to guard them from the deathclaws until out of their territory. Snow and James had each dropped to one knee to formally acknowledge them, much to the animals' delight.

Before Emma knew it they were _there_.

Hidden from prying palace eyes by a thick tree thicket, and well away from the vicious vulture she had warned the others about, they were at the far end of the world's creepiest ravine. In moments, without being told, everyone had sprung into action and a camp had begun to emerge around her.

It had depressed her mightily – her out-of-depth feeling magnified with each slammed in tent peg, and each time the blacksmith ambled by with glowing, newly minted weapons, or archers loped off to look for small game for dinner. They were people with faces she knew from a modern setting but had instantly morphed into medieval versions of themselves.

She had gazed about unhappily. The smells were all wrong. The sun seemed in the wrong place. And the people were very, very wrong. The differences had been far subtler in Storybrooke but it seemed the moment they had stepped foot in their old world they became who they had always been.

Red walked taller, more purposefully, with an air of danger, like the wolf her mother told her she could turn into.

Snow herself had a keen edge and a wicked tongue that had astonished her. She was also devastatingly accurate with bow and arrow.

James was a leader in every sense and had a regal bearing that still unnerved Emma when his warm blue eyes would catch hers curiously.

The only one unchanged had been herself.

_And it sucked._

So Emma had snuck away, noticing the ledge halfway up the ravine wall and decided to get out of everyone's way for a while.

She heard scrambling sounds and glanced down. Red was agilely making her way up the cliff face with a determined look on her face. She could well believe her friend was half wolf with the rapid progress she was making.

When her dark head with red streaks poked up over the ledge, Emma scooted to one side to make room.

"Hey," Red said with a wide grin, patting down her knees of red dirt and leaning gratefully back against the wall beside her.

"Hey," Emma replied morosely. "Back from scouting already?"

"Eh, you go faster on four legs, so yeah."

"What'd you see?"

Red shrugged. "This and that. I went with Henry and the others to the Enchanted Forest first. It was pretty much just how we left it – a bit overgrown. The other realms' people were a bit spooked when everyone just vanished from there so they pretty much left it be. They thought it must be haunted. I did shred a few vermin squatters, though," she added with a bloodthirsty grin.

Emma felt slightly queasy and glanced at her friend. Red quickly dropped her expression. "Sorry, Em," she said. "I forget you're not used to any of this."

"No," Emma agreed. "It's a crazy amount of adjustment. I don't even understand why Henry's not freaking out like I am."

"He's a kid," Red shrugged. "This was his dream all along. Oh, by the way, he wanted me to tell you he's fine and happy and helping pick a room in the palace for you for when you move back there."

Emma scowled and stared at her dusty boots.

"Hey," Red asked, "What is it?"

"He sounds like he wants us here for the long haul. I can barely stand being here for five minutes. Hell there's not even a flushing toilet. And forget hamburgers and Coke and TV sports and… and… AA batteries."

Red laughed. "I did actually pack a huge stash of those."

"For your, um… Walkman?" Emma asked, baffled.

Red blushed a little. "Um, OK, yeah that, too. But a girl gets lonely, too, so…"

Emma paused for a moment until it dawned on her what her friend was getting at and she groaned in embarrassment burying her head in her hands.

"Well that's forward planning, Red. I never even thought to pack _that_."

Red giggled. "Well, I don't think _you'll _have to worry about being, um, lonesome, soon, right?"

Emma looked even more appalled.

"Oh come on, Em, show a bit of enthusiasm. You're gonna see Regina tonight. And, I did a little scouting at the other end of the ravine, too. Thanks for the heads up on those swelter pools by the way…"

Emma glared at her in exasperation, willing her to finish the freaking sentence.

"Anyway I know which room is Regina's now - I got quite close before the scout birds noticed me. I'll draw you a map later so you don't bust in on the guards' rooms or her crazy mother or something."

Emma's head snapped up. "Did you see her? How'd she look?"

"Just a glimpse but it was definitely her. Not close enough to see her face though, but I'd know that Madame Mayor strut anywhere," Red grinned. She elbowed Emma. "So, come on, excited about tonight?"

"Gah, I don't think Regina's gonna be too thrilled to see me, Red. She left on nasty terms."

Red slapped her arm. "Don't be ridiculous, our Mayor Mills was panting for you from day one. And now she's had all this time to be missing you, she'll have your clothes ripped off before you get past 'Hi Reg'…." Red teased her with a playful elbow jab to her ribs.

Emma rolled her eyes. "Hardly. I'll be lucky if she doesn't hurl me over that balcony. She probably could you know. She's stronger than she looks. Or she might just tell me all the ways I am not worthy of her attention in her usual cutting way."

Red grinned. "Yeah, she has a way with insults for sure. But you know, I do think you two are meant to be. And so does Granny. There's a reason she packed all those wedding feast ingredients. I think her Regina-in-a-tux cake decoration is _so_ cute by the way."

Emma gaped. Finally she gave up and shook her head.

"I really don't think you two get how completely indifferent she is to me right now. If I succeed it'll be an absolute miracle. And everyone's counting on me." She sighed heavily until Red patted her thigh comfortingly.

"Hey you're looking at this all wrong. Why don't you think of it like one of your bounty hunter special-op missions. You get in, you chat to the target, you get out again. All the rest is just BS. And if you happen to make out with the target and cop a bit of a feel before your sleuthy super-spy exit, more's the better."

She cackled evilly and Emma couldn't help but laugh. "You are _impossible_."

"Yeah I know."

"Hey,you two, mind if I join you?"

Snow's voice approaching them from behind made Emma start in surprise.

"Whoa! Where did you spring from?" She glanced down the cliff face. No way she'd have missed her mother crawling up that.

"The path of course," she pointed behind her.

"There's a path?"

"Oh Em, you do like to do things the hard way."

Emma shrugged.

Red grinned conspiratorially. "I knew about the path, too. But I just came up the cliff cos I wanted to stretch out my haunches a bit. And on that note, I'll leave you two to chat. Em - I'll leave you a map in your tent."

Emma nodded, wondering if she'd have any hope of working out which one was her tent anyway. They watched as Red easily dropped over the ledge and scampered down the cliff face with the agility of a mountain goat.

"So," Snow began easing herself down. "Enjoying the view?"

"Mm," Emma shrugged. "Just getting out from underfoot. Everyone seems to know what they're doing and I'm … I don't have the faintest clue."

Understanding filled the other woman's face and Emma felt embarrassed she'd admitted that much. "It's not like I had the training you all did," she added defensively. "This is as foreign to me as outer space. You have all taken to it like you were born to it. Which, actually, you were."

She couldn't help feel slightly resentful. Snow in particular had been like the fairytale land's pin-up girl. There seemed to be nothing she couldn't do or didn't know about this world. She was an instant expert on everything.

Emma, on the other hand, felt as useful as a one-legged ant. She eyed her mother's outfit, so at odds with what the teacher used to wear in Storybrooke. Leather pants, tan. Leather vest, tan. Leather cape, tan.

Well, OK, maybe she didn't excel at colour variations. Although Emma rather coveted her boots. Leather. Dark tan.

"I know it's a lot to take in, but you will adapt," Snow said. "Don't forget you are our child – a product of these lands even if you don't remember it."

Emma shrugged, unconvinced.

"Are you worried about tonight?" Snow asked perceptively, tilting her head.

The blonde squinted towards the setting sun. Finally she nodded. "Yeah. Gonna be hard. After… you know."

Snow frowned, and a hint of anger crossed her face. Emma could well imagine her remembering the nastiness of that letter.

Suddenly Emma turned to her mother. "I don't know if I can do this – convince her. She's a pretty bloody-minded person – you know that. And I am just the fool who fell for her. I mean what the hell am I doing? She could laugh me out of the castle or toss me in the dungeon or …"

"Em," Snow sighed. She bit her lip. "She's not going to do any of those things. You have to have faith."

"You are telling me to have faith in the woman who has been after your blood for three decades?" she snorted in disbelief.

"That would only be a valid argument if_ I_ was the one visiting her. It's true, she tried to have me killed. I am fairly sure she had a hand in killing my father. She also poisoned me once. And she imprisoned James to get at me."

"This is supposed to make me feel better?"

"No, actually I am reminding you of who you are dealing with," Snow said, eyes glittering intently. "She is cruel and she holds grudges. And if she wanted you to suffer with all her heart, then you would suffer. The fact is she doesn't actually wish ill on you at all."

"The letter seems to indicate otherwise."

"The letter is a lie and we both know it."

Emma's shoulders slumped. She so wanted to believe.

"Why are you helping me reconnect with her?"

"I am doing no such thing, Emma. I am helping you break up a wicked alliance. And I am using your former connection with her to do so." Snow looked at her archly. "If you want to go off the plan and initiate something else with her, I can't stop you. I'd urge extreme caution, but I can't stop you. But you have to remember why we're doing this. Thousands will die if you forget your main mission."

"You really suck at pep talks you know that," Emma grumbled.

"This isn't a pep talk," Snow said, eyes burning. "It's a briefing. But, all that aside, I do want you to face Regina with some confidence, so there's something I have to tell you."

Emma eyed her warily. "Does it involve spikes?"

Snow ignored her and pointed at her jacket. "It's about this," she said softly, dusting her fingers over the red material. "There's something I didn't tell you earlier. About what it means that Regina darned this for you, and embroidered your name in it."

Emma stared at her completely baffled. "What do you mean? What's the big deal?"

"Oh Em," Snow sighed. "You have no idea." She drew in a deep breath and let it out heavily. "It began when I was a little girl in my father's palace…"

Emma listened silently to her mother's story about a younger Regina with a talent for sewing only matched by her loathing of it. When she was finished, Snow's voice catching briefly as she recalled watching the beautiful needlework combust in flames, Emma found herself biting her lip.

"What does it mean?" she whispered, fingering her jacket sleeve subconsciously.

"I think you know."

The reply was so quiet.

"I uh…" Emma frowned. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

A soft sigh. "I was afraid. I don't want to lose you again and not to her."

Emma stared at her legs stretched out in front of her, brain processing. "That's not going to happen. The losing me thing," she muttered.

Snow smiled. "I am glad," she said then paused, a pensive look on her face. "Are you angry with me, for not telling you earlier?"

Emma gazed at her helplessly. "I don't know. Why tell me now?"

"I wanted you to be confident tonight. When you look Regina in the eye, do it as her equal. Not in fear because you believe that letter. You can look at her and know it was a lie and face her on your own terms. Strong."

Emma squared her shoulders. "OK," she gave a half smile, her heart now pounding as the implications suddenly hit home. "Do you think this means what I think it does? That Regina might … you know?"

"Honestly Em?" Snow said, "I hope not. But, I, maybe, yes. She probably does."

A warm smile crossed Emma's face and for the first time since she'd come to this god forsaken land she actually felt happy about it.

Snow looked at her wryly. "Well don't let it go to your head," she said, lips twitching.

Emma just grinned even wider.

"What's the use," Snow sighed, climbing to her feet. "The young of today," she grumbled. "Look, just don't forget your main mission tonight, OK?"

"I won't," Emma said earnestly.

Snow exited towards the path.

"And come down soon and make yourself useful. Someone has to help Granny skin the rabbits," she called out.

"Ew," Emma scowled, getting to her feet. "Aren't they like sentient or something?"

"Not anymore," Snow snickered cheerfully.

Emma once again was struck by how different this woman was away from Storybrooke. Her face fell in horror. Snow glanced back and laughed out loud at her appalled expression. "Lighten up, Em. I was only kidding."

The blonde shook her head. This strange new world was going to take some getting used to.

. . . . . . . .

Regina blinked back into existence and slumped in exhaustion. She was just out of view of the palace guards and she was an absolute mess. Not only had she done two teleportation spells in under an hour but she had also pulled off her impersonation spell once more.

She gnawed her lip pensively. She could barely walk. If she staggered towards her guards in this condition they'd be sure to report it to Cora and when the events she had put into motion today came to pass later, her mother would surely work out it was her hand behind it all.

_That could not happen._

As she was working out what to do next, the most delightful sight she could ever imagine came into view.

Rosemary, followed closely by Clarice, was making quite the deliberate spectacle in front of the guards. The former had donned a scandalously low-cut dress – _Really_, Regina mused gratefully, _was she stealing ALL her old tricks?_ – and she had the undivided attention of the first guard.

Clarice, meanwhile was starting a feisty argument with the second guard, using a rather hilarious line of insults about his slipping security abilities while claiming a turnip thief was running rampant in the palace.

Regina smirked and made her way slowly forward, careful not to stagger, eager to take advantage of the distraction. As she passed the guards she nodded to them curtly but they barely noticed her, still fending off the servants' varied attentions.

She only leaned heavily against the wall once she was around the corner. She caught her breath.

She was joined soon by Rosemary who rushed up to her and took her by the elbow, helping her back to her feet.

"Are you OK Your Majesty?" she whispered, edging them along the corridor. "Clarice told me where you went and what condition you'd likely be in when you returned. We were looking out for you. Did … things … go well?"

Regina nodded. "If you just help me to my bedroom without anyone seeing, I would say the day was a success."

Rosemary slipped her hand around the brunette's waist and carefully helped her inch along the corridor.

"Is King Midas really all they say?" she asked.

"It depends on what they say, dear," Regina snorted. "He was a stuffy conservative fool who swallowed the bait greedily."

"Ooh, what did you say to him?" Rosemary's eyes widened in rapt attention. She opened the bedroom door for Regina and led her in, closing it quietly.

"Patience, my dear," the brunette said, easing herself to her bed. "It will all come out soon. And the best part…"

She paused as she leaned forward attempting to remove her boots. Her hands kept fumbling. Rosemary quickly fell to her knees and nimbly took over.

"The best part," Regina repeated, letting her hands drop by her sides, her words slurring with tiredness, "no one will ever know that the little cockroach was behind it all."

The blonde frowned. "Cockroach? Whatever do you mean?"

"Rosemary," Regina sighed so, so softly, as she lay back on the bed, closing her eyes. "It's just something my mother called me once."

She was asleep in moments. Rosemary neatly placed the boots next to the bed and lay a blanket over the royal, unable to resist whispering in her ear "I think you should call me Rose, now, Your Majesty."

The servant smiled and closed the door after her, and decided to make it her mission to tell the household Regina was not be disturbed for the rest of the day. She did not hear the sleepy, contented mumble moments later: "OK Rose."

. . . . . . . .

Regina awoke with a start unable at first to place what had hauled her fuzzy mind out of its deep slumber. She slid her eyes out the windowed doors over the balcony. She could see a faint amount of light from the full moon but realised it was otherwise completely dark outside.

_What time was it? Had she slept all day and half the night? Seemed so._

Not for the first time she missed wristwatches and bedside alarm clocks.

She heard a small thump from outside. _Was this what had awakened her?_

She strained her ears and eyes and realised the sound was coming closer. A shadow suddenly appeared and she swallowed a sharp cry of surprise.

A figure was commando-crawling along the balcony floor at snail's pace, pushing a sack in front of them. It paused in front of her doors and Regina sank back into her pillows, eyes wide as she wondered who would dare intrude on her bedroom.

Was it an assassin? Her mother wouldn't be so sneaky. She preferred the brazen full-frontal assault so she could laugh in the face of her victim.

As Regina stared she realised the figure kept turning, trying to see into her bedroom. But the moon's backlighting meant all they'd see was pitch black. Regina swallowed in relief.

Should she call for the guards? Her mother abhorred weakness and would probably sneer at her for not sorting out a lowly intruder by herself.

_Good point._ Regina bared her lips and swallowed her fear, lifting a hand in the darkness and conjured up a fireball.

At least that's what she tried to do. Not so much as a mystical fizz appeared in her hand. She sighed and closed her fingers into a fist. Clearly her magical powers were out of juice. Not surprising after what she'd put her body through hours ago.

She looked back at the shadow and realised the person was rooting through their sack, searching for something. Unable to find it, the intruder had now softly emptied the contents out onto the floor in front of them.

Regina peered in disbelief. Finally the person stopped sifting and returned to the door, pushing something into the lock and jiggling it.

_Well that was pointless_, Regina knew. Her mother had fried that lock two weeks ago. She had meant to magic up a new lock but hadn't gotten around to it. The irony was if her intruder had just tested the door first, they would have found it was not actually locked at all.

She heard a small muttered curse and realised her intruder had just discovered the lock's thoroughly twisted and useless innards.

Regina's eyebrows shot up. _A female's voice_. She frowned. Had Snow come herself to end her? But the height of her attacker was all wrong to be Snow.

That was it. She had to know. Heart pounding ferociously, she tossed back her covers, stalked to door and flung it open.

The shadow's face lifted and Regina realised a black beanie had been obscuring long blonde tresses. The woman rose from the floor and the brunette rapidly sought out her eyes.

"Regina!" a familiar voice whispered, containing surprise at the door suddenly opening.

_No_, a voice gasped inside her head. _No, no, no. She's dead. This is a trick. Your brain is playing tricks. _

_But._

She gazed at the face. A pensive frown greeted her – a mix of hope and fear written starkly across unguarded features. She watched as the woman pulled the beanie off, and her face twisted into a wry, slightly awkward expression. The ghost spoke again, the sides of her mouth twisting ever so slightly. "Hey."

A shudder shot up Regina's spine and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. _This was no trick._

_She … was … is_ _alive_.

Regina stood in the cold night air, frozen to the spot, and simply stared and stared, her mouth working wordlessly, disbelieving eyes falling into the blue orbs that had haunted her dreams.

"Regina?" This time the voice contained an edge of concern. A black-gloved hand reached out and stroked her arm gently.

She snapped her mouth closed.

_This was real. _

All she could croak out was one word. "_Em-ma_?"

Her voice cracked as she said it.

A nod.

And then her whole world came crashing down.

**.**

**Author's note: I know, I know. But this would have wound up the world's longest chapter if I didn't end it there. I promise I will not make you wait long for your Swan Queeny feels next chapter. I hope, in the meantime, you liked this one. On a personal note, I am _so_ relieved our grrls are reunited. Writing them apart for so long made my soul ache and spiked my chocolate consumption to unholy levels.**


	10. Chapter 10

**A LEDGER SQUARED IN BLOOD**

**By Scribes and Scrolls**

**CHAPTER 10: REUNITED**_**  
**__  
Uh oh._

Emma quickly reached for Regina as she collapsed and gently leveraged her dead weight as best she could onto the bed. She swung the woman's legs up and then stared down at the crumpled form in surprise.

_Well, that did not go as planned_.

She heard a bang and almost leapt out of her skin, turning to see the open door knocking against the wall in the wind. It sounded so loud in the stillness of the night. She ran over and quickly corralled her belongings back into the sack, which she kicked over to Regina's bed, and then shut the door as quietly as she could.

She turned.

_Regina Mills. Had. Fainted. In her arms no less._The look on her face, the disbelief and fear - she had seemed genuinely spooked.

Emma's brow knitted as she lay gently beside her, on her side, gazing at the woman who had confounded her for weeks.

She looked so tired.

The blonde slipped off her gloves, ramming them into her jacket pocket, then gently let her fingertips graze the side of the brunette's face.

"Hey," she whispered, tucking a loose hair back around Regina's ear. "Wake up, Regina. Come on."

She seemed so small like this - hardly the force of nature she'd known in Storybrooke, and not a patch on Her Regal Bleakness she'd spied from below the balcony all those weeks ago.

Eyelids began to flutter open and Emma let out a relieved breath she didn't realise she was holding. "Hey!" she grinned. "Welcome back."

"Emma?" Brown eyes screwed up in disbelief. "What? How..."

"You fainted."

"You're _dead!_" she blurted, eyes widening.

"Well no need to thank me, but that's a bit of overkill don't you think?" Emma stared at her in complete confusion.

"What?" Regina asked, face creasing. "You. Were. Dead! I _saw _it. Mother destroyed the cottage. I-I watched you shout at a scout bird and then you walked inside and then... then..."

Hands flew to Emma's concerned face, dusting it, touching, testing to check she was real. "But that didn't happen. Y-you're here."

"I remember shouting at a scout bird," Emma said. "I cursed the hell out of your mother," she grinned at the memory. "But I went home a week or so later. I found the destroyed cottage only this morning when we came back."

Regina blinked away tears. "I saw the ruins, too. I went to check she hadn't lied. It was horrible. Emma, I thought I was walking on your ashes."

The blonde felt the other woman begin to shake so wrapped an arm firmly around her waist and gave a comforting squeeze.

"Hey, Regina, come on, it's OK. Your mother tricked you." She paused. "Why couldn't you have just done a spell to see that I wasn't ... uh ... there?"

Regina growled in frustration. "I don't _know _such a spell. I mean how often would anyone need to use it to even consider inventing it in the first place, let alone teaching it to others? Spells work on a supply and demand basis like everything else."

For a moment she sounded like her old condescending, lecturing self and Emma almost smiled.

Then arms tugged her fiercely down on top of her until they were nose to nose, the warmth of Regina's trembling body flooding Emma's senses. Suddenly she was enveloped in a bone-crushing hug.

"DON'T YOU EVER DO THAT TO ME AGAIN!"

"Do what?"

"PROMISE ME!"

"I, uh, promise not to be unwittingly used in a fake death video by your lying psycho-bitch mother?" Emma's lips twitched at the indignant demand.

The brunette slapped her on the shoulder. Hard.

"Ow!" Emma protested.

"This is _not _funny. I _mourned _you! For God's sake," Regina's rough voice cracked and dropped to a ragged gasp. "I mourned you."

And then her shoulders were shaking and tears were dripping from anguished brown pools and Emma gathered her up, soothing her. Sliding one arm around her back, the other stroking her hair.

"I'm so sorry Regina, I had no idea."

And suddenly the brunette was kissing her. It was messy and sloppy and anxious and needy, and Regina's face was tear-stained and distraught but Emma never thought she'd seen a more beautiful sight. Her anguish and pain and much, much more was plainly written all over her face.

Emma responded gently, tasting the salt water and kissing it away, then cupping her cheek, tenderly stroking it.

"I missed you," Regina whispered when they finally pulled away, the urgent, desperate edge fading.

"Hey, me too. Who else did I have to boss me around about my dirty coffee mugs?" She offered an adoring grin.

Regina growled. "I'm being serious."

"So was I. I've been a mess without you." Emma gazed at her then dropped her voice as she said in complete earnestness: "In every sense."

Another bone-crushing hug. Emma felt the hands clutching at her jacket, running down to her ass and gripping her as though staking a claim. The blonde burrowed into her shoulder, enjoying the touches, sighing as she realised she had also missed the scent of the woman so much.

Regina finally pushed her away and sought out her eyes. "I want to tell you... I realised I never did. And I.."

Suddenly she froze and recoiled, tilting her head back sharply.

Emma felt the change and fear skittered down her spine. "What is it?" she asked, alarmed.

Regina gave her an accusing look. "How do I know this is even _you_? There are spells. It would just be like my mother to trick me and coax all my secrets out of me." An appalled look crossed her face.

"Well it's a bit late to be asking me that _after _you've kissed me senseless, dontcha think?" Emma asked, eyebrows sliding up.

"It certainly sounds like you, dear," Regina pursed her lips. "But after what has transpired, I would like proof." She tapped Emma impatiently to get off her. The blonde rolled over on to her side again and slid eyes up to brown. Regina sat up stiffly, crossed her arms and glared. "Well?"

Emma sighed and rubbed her face, as if trying to expunge the memory embedded sharply in her brain. "You left me a letter. The world's cruellest letter, I might add..." She gave Regina an irritated look. The other woman at least appeared slightly shamefaced. Emma twisted and flopped on her back to stare up at the ceiling - well what she could make of it in the darkened room.

She gathered her thoughts and exhaled. Then, in a shaky voice, she recounted what the letter said, word for word. Without looking over she could feel Regina wincing in parts, hear her breath catching. She knew by being able to reel off the letter from memory she had just revealed the depths with which it had stung her. And how much it still hurt.

When she was done, turned her head back to eye Regina. "Really? That was your exit plan? 'Thank' me then dump me?"

Regina swallowed. "I didn't want to risk you might stay for me. You needed to get back to Henry. I needed you safe. That was more important than anything else. Even your ... our ... feelings."

Emma's eyebrows lifted at that revelation, but she felt unable to forgive just yet. "I have spent _weeks _trying to understand your motives. And now you tell me you just wanted to make sure I left? Seriously, Regina? You couldn't just have sat down and had a normal conversation with me about our plans? You had to do some over-the-top complicated scheme to trick me? _What the hell?_"

"I uh..." A look of complete embarrassment flashed across Regina's face, and Emma suddenly knew the thought of just talking to her honestly hadn't even entered her mind. It made Emma even more cranky. She let out a shuddering breath.

"Do you know how many people have left me in my life? Actually you might know that - you probably have the foster care files on me or something? And yet you still did _that_ to me. Made me feel like I was worthless. It was wrong. Regina ... It _really _freaking hurt."

Regina gazed back at the outraged face, her jaw working. Finally she glanced away, her cheeks visibly darkening.

"I didn't mean ... I... All I could think was keeping you safe and giving Henry the best mother he could have if I wasn't there. Cora would have come after you again and again if she knew how much you meant to me. She suspected but she wasn't _sure_. And I couldn't risk losing you."

The blonde chewed her lower lip as she processed her words. Regina sounded genuinely contrite. Not to mention so sad.

The sheriff's anger evaporated.

"OK. Next time, just talk to me? I am not twelve. I can handle an adult discussion. I don't need manipulation or games."

Regina nodded and looked up at her from under her eyelashes. "I want you to know that was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do in my life."

The blonde's lips pressed into a line. "Good. I'd hate to think screwing me over was easy for you."

Regina flinched and Emma felt instantly lousy_. Shit, no need for low blows._She scrounged around for a new topic.

"So do you believe I'm _me _yet?" she asked with her most endearing mock pout.

"I doubt Mother could pull off that particular expression, dear. You look like our ten-year-old."

Emma beamed. It was rare for Regina to ever call Henry theirs. A thought struck her.

"Hey," she said, leaning over the bed. "Brought you a present. It's a present only the real Emma would know to bring, I might add."

She pulled out a pair of worn men's shoes from her sack and dropped them on the bed beside the brunette.

There was an astonished gasp. "You saved Daddy's shoes?! I thought they were ashes!"

Regina's hands fell to the worn brown leather, tracing the curves lovingly.

Her head snapped to stare at Emma's. "Thank you," she said with sincerity. Then she gently placed them on the floor and rolled over so she was hovering on top of Emma..

And then there were kisses. Peppered, all over her face. The blonde smiled widely. Regina's adoring look had just made everything worthwhile. For the first time in weeks she felt fantastic. And then the brunette took her mood to impossible heights.

"By the way... I-I really … I _care _for you." Emma felt soft hands brushing over her chin and lips and she could feel the rapid thudding in the other woman's chest through her cream button-up blouse.

Emma saw Regina swallow nervously as though afraid of the blonde's response. Emma opened her mouth to reply but a soft hand came up to stop her.

"Let me finish. Before, I was afraid. I thought there was nothing worse than baring my emotions. Especially to you. Being vulnerable? It was a weakness. I was _wrong_. Emma, the moment I saw the cottage fall, with you in it - I saw what I lost in an instant. And all the rest was just empty, pointless pride. When you were gone, I was gone. And I am not wasting my second chance. So. I…" pure fear flashed across her face. "I… love you."

Emma gazed at her for a moment, a delighted smile playing at her lips. "Regina," she exhaled bringing her arms around the warm body above her to pull her tightly against her chest, "you are a maddening woman. And you broke my heart," she admitted. She heard a soft sad grunt. "But I never, ever, not once, stopped loving you. And I just can't imagine there ever being a time when I would."

Regina's head snapped up and her eyes smiled. Her mouth curved, too, but it was watching the brunette's eyes dance with delight that made Emma's breath catch.

"I'm going to do something now I've only ever done once before in my life," Regina smiled, her voice low and sultry. Emma shivered. "I am going to make love," her hand slid down Emma's jaw line and tapped her chin for effect. "And show you how I feel."

The blonde swallowed, her brain nearly short circuiting. "Um, Regina, much as I would like to do that – God, _love_ to - but I'm actually here on a mission." _Why did her voice sound so breathless?_

Regina's eyes clouded over. "Let me guess, you have a little Storybrooke army stashed away somewhere around here and you want to attack the castle? Hmm? And you're the advanced guard to chat to me about my allegiances?"

Emma laughed at her unerring accuracy. "Something like that. Actually they want to bring down the George/Cora alliance. Failing that, or maybe as well as that, they want to attack Cora and George's castles."

Regina snorted. "Please. If they even so much as show themselves they'll all be dead. There's a magical trebuchet hidden halfway down the ravine that can flatten anyone, anywhere, even before Cora calls in George's army for reinforcements. You saw what it did to my cottage? Imagine what it could do to a small group of people.

"So we attack the trebuchet..."

"You can't - it has a powerful protection spell that sits around it like a skirt. And you toss so much as a rock at that catapult and a forcefield will bounce it back at you five times the speed."

Emma's heart sank. "So there's no defeating Cora."

"I didn't say that. There's still your Plan A. Destroying the alliance."

"We can't do that without a bit of help from you."

Amused laughter burbled from Regina. "My dear," she said fondly, pronouncing the 'dear' with a warmth Emma had never heard before. It made her feel weak in the knees. "You can _only _do that with my help, and more than a bit of it. It's not something you can poke at around the edges. These are cunning, clever people you want brought down. Do not underestimate them. And you have to be on the inside to destroy this alliance."

The brunette looked fondly at the woman under her and stroked her hair, eyeing her increasingly glum expression with amusement. She lowered her voice conspiratorially, lips tracing Emma's ear. "And as luck would have it I have already put in place a plan that will rip them apart in a few days."

Emma started in surprise.

"You didn't really think I came here to renew maternal ties with the woman who destroyed my life, do you?"

"I did wonder."

Now Regina looked surprised. Her face took on a distasteful expression.

Emma jumped in defensively: "Well I did sneak over to see you once before I left for Storybrooke. I was under the balcony. I saw you actually grasp her hand."

Regina's brows knitted, thinking. Finally she spoke. "Ah, _that_. I had just found out she was going to be married to the royal boor. I was rather hoping she was doing it for love. A foolish notion it seems. Mother actually worked out which side I was on based on that little conversation."

Emma's eyes grew wide. "Why does she keep you here if she knows you're working against her?"

Regina smiled coldly. "Two reasons. She wants me at her wedding - for show. She'd hate to walk down the aisle and have no family on display. And she's not entirely sure what I'm up to and she desperately wants to know. She destroyed the cottage and led me to believe you along with it, and my photos of Henry," she paused and frowned, "thinking it would destroy my spirit and maybe curb my schemes against her. Clearly she does not know me at all well."

"No," Emma whispered. "You would just strike back harder."

"Yes. I would. In fact anyone in Storybrooke could tell you that. She, on the other hand, decided to push me to the edge. I hope she likes the view because I have dragged her there with me. She just doesn't know it yet."

"What is your plan?"

"I have tricked King Midas with a clever tissue of lies. I am expecting him to arrive at the palace soon to confront George. When he does, the world order in this realm will be irrevocably shattered. So it's probably best you tell your parents and their little posse to stay hidden or risk getting smashed about by magical cannon balls."

Emma eyed her closely. "You won't be coming away with me then? Tonight?"

"No. I have to be here when Midas arrives or Cora will suspect I had some hand in the deception. It must seem to be Midas pulling all the strings. And besides, I have a few people here I want to protect when the alliance blows up. People who have helped me."

The blonde raised her eyebrows. "You have friends here?"

"Well don't sound so surprised, dear, I do know how to network."

Emma snickered. "OK, well we need a signal - for when you have completed your plan and are ready to leave. In case we do manage to destroy the trebuchet."

"You can't destroy that. It's impenetrable."

"Maybe so. But I'd still feel better if we knew when you were ready to get out. And what if your palace friends needed our help? You need a way to signal our army."

Regina frowned at that. "OK. Scapulus."

"Huh?"

"There's a demon vulture who lives in the Canyon of Light. I will call for him. If you ever see a vulture sitting on the palace balcony, it will mean the alliance has fallen. Or if it hasn't fallen, it means that I am compromised and will be leaving if I am able. Either way, if you wish to attack despite the suicidal risks from that trebuchet, then so be it."

"Holy crap, you know that creepy bird?"

"He actually happens to be a very loyal ally to me."

"Seriously, woman, you are..." Emma's eyes bulged as she searched for the words.

"Yes, dear?" Regina tilted her head, daring her to insult her.

"Full of surprises," she grinned.

The brunette smirked. Her fingers snaked into Emma's hair. "Indeed I am. Now if we're done with your little mission?"

Emma groaned as the fingers moved to stroke her face. "We are."

"Good, because there are more productive things that we could be doing than masterminding our parents' wars."

The blonde laughed. "Yeah, that is what we've been doing."

"Mmm. Come here."

The blonde slid higher up, under Regina's body until their faces were aligned. Regina latched her lips on to hers and began to kiss her slowly, with intent.

Her lips slid down to Emma's chin and then her neck. She stopped. "What the hell is that smell?"

Emma blushed deeply. "Oh, um, Granny insisted I impress you with her 'honey trap' cologne."

Regina's eyebrows rose. "Taking beauty advice from Eugenia Lucas now? That would be a first."

"Eugenia? Her name is freaking Eugenia?"

"Well why do you think she prefers Granny?"

"Just shut up and kiss me," Emma grumbled. "We don't have much time left before I have to be back. Snow threatened to storm the palace at dawn if I wasn't back by then."

Regina actually laughed at that. "Well that won't be happening."

"Because of the trebuchet?"

"Well that, too. Let's just say no one does any storming in this canyon just after dawn. "

"Huh?"

"Wait a few hours, and then you'll see what happens."

"Regina?"

"Mmm?"

"How on earth did you get your hand down there? I didn't even feel it move."

The former mayor smiled. "A lady never tells."

"Could you move it just to the lef... oh yes, Oh god, yes."

Emma felt the hand that had snaked inside her jeans and underwear begin to knead her.

"You are so good at that, you know?" she husked as fingers dipped inside her liquid and spread it across her folds.

"Hmmm mm," Regina purred.

Two fingers slid inside her and Emma arched back in delight. She glanced down feeling faintly ridiculous, still wearing her jacket, while Regina's fingers performed an incredibly intimate act. She began to pull her leather jacket off.

"No," Regina said quickly. "Leave it on. I like it."

Emma tilted her head. "Since when?"

"Since you died and it was the lasting memory I had of you," the brunette whispered.

"Oh God, Regina. Of course," she said and let her arms fall. "Do you mind if I unbutton your shirt at least?"

"By all means."

Emma made short work of Regina's old-fashioned peasant-style blouse, ripping it apart and deciding there were some real pluses in visiting a land with no bras. The soft breasts bounced free above her, deep red nipples hardening in the cold night air. Emma leaned forward and licked them appreciatively, feeling Regina's fingers still dancing inside her as she did.

Regina moaned. The blonde realised just how much she had missed the sound. Her eyes flicked to the brown orbs watching hers with desire. She had forgotten this sight, of Regina slowly becoming undone. There was no sensation more erotic.

"I want you," was all Emma could think to say, nuzzling the breasts. "I need you. And I love you."

In reply Regina lunged forward at her neck and began to nuzzle her urgently. She slipped her fingers more powerfully into Emma, thumb skidding over her clit.

They didn't talk after that. Emma couldn't even remember the first time she came hard, under Regina's slippery fingers. She did remember later burying her face between her quivering legs until her soft cries and pleas floated up to Emma's ears. And she remembered seeing tears sliding down the brunette's face shortly afterwards, until the other woman captured Emma in more searing passionate kisses and murmured endearments in her ear. Endearments so impossibly sweet the blonde could scarcely believe it was Regina uttering them.

Much later she watched the silhouette of the former mayor arching above her, shuddering, face alight, eyes burning into hers as Emma drove fingers deep inside her, urging her to come once more.

Even later still, she recalled the brunette clinging to her and half-whispering, half-begging for her to _please, please _don't leave her again. Emma's heart almost broke at the anguish and need she could feel in the trembling body clutching at her shoulders, and tangling in her hair.

When they finally collapsed in a mess of limbs under the covers, still partially clad, with jeans hanging off one leg for Emma, and Regina's unbuttoned cream shirt still clinging to one arm and a shoulder - although she now wore nothing else - Emma heard the softest sound near her ear. It was as she curved herself around Regina, just as they had all those nights before in the cottage. "Stay," the throaty voice whispered. "For as long as you can. Please?"

"Mmm," Emma agreed softly and kissed her hair. "Wake me before dawn, though. I want to see what you're talking about in this canyon. And I should get back before my parents worry."

"Yes. But sleep now," Regina husked. "I'll wake you in time to get away."

. . . . . . . . .

Regina had not slept well in months. She had therefore never missed a Canyon of Light display in all the dawns since she had returned to the palace. Being surrounded in Emma's arms however had given her an overwhelming sense of calm and relaxation that pushed her into the deepest sleep of her life. She did not naturally wake before dawn.

Neither did Emma.

A light rapping on the door stirred her and she gradually opened her eyes, wondering what the weight was pinning her down. Eyes flickered open to see a sea of blonde curls and the lover she had believed dead draped over her hip, chest and thigh. She couldn't contain her smile.

The knocking resumed. Suddenly her eyes snapped wide open. What if it was one of Cora's guards? Or Cora herself? Although Mother never knocked. Before she could call out to stall the visitor, the door cracked open and a familiar blonde head appeared, face filled with concern.

"Majesty?" Rosemary asked, huge worried eyes seeking out Regina's. "You didn't come down to the kitchen after first light like you always do and I was worried because yesterday you..."

Her eyes widened as she took in the fact Regina was not alone. Indeed, a clearly naked woman was wrapped around the royal. And apart from an askew shirt, the brunette seemed in a similar condition.

"Oh my goodness, I am so sorry to intrude!" her face flushed the deepest red. And the horror in her features was not something Regina would soon forget. "Please forgive me, I'll go. Your Majesty."

Emma's eyes slowly fell open and she rolled over to see who had woken her. She offered a fond glance at Regina but on seeing her consternation and attention on something by the door, she let her blue eyes wander further. She wrenched a sheet up over them both as she encountered a stranger's pretty face with huge eyes blinking at them.

A face which promptly disappeared as the wooden door shut firmly.

_Oh hell_, Regina scowled.

"Is this very bad?" Emma asked quickly rising and searching for her clothes. "Will she tell Cora?"

Regina watched appreciatively as jeans slid up her lover's legs and forced herself to focus. "No. She's one of the friends I mentioned earlier."

Emma, zipping up her jeans, frowned. "Then why does she look like you just stomped on her favourite kitten. Didn't she know you liked, ah, the ladies?" Emma smirked a little.

The brunette shook her head. "This isn't funny." Regina glanced down and began to button up her disarrayed shirt. "I will have to go after her. Smooth things over."

Emma, reaching for her bra stopped cold and turned to look at her. "You? Running after someone to smooth things over? Who _is _this girl?"

"A servant. She, uh, likes me. Has a little crush." Regina pursed her lips.

The blonde scowled as she hooked her bra. "And did you and she ... _you know_, when you thought I was dead? Comfort was it?"

"Don't be absurd. I never laid a finger on her."

"Did you want to?" Emma asked silkily, finding her tank-top swaying from a wardrobe handle where she'd flung it last night.

"She is an ally. She is sweet. And she has the same aims that we do. But as for anything more? Nothing could ever happen."

"Why not? She seems attractive enough," Emma growled, shrugging on her red jacket.

"Because she was NOT YOU!" Regina rose in irritation. "And I can't believe you thought I'd forget you in less than a month." The brunette shakily pulled on tight black leather pants, hands trembling with fury.

Emma's arms came around behind her, circling in front of her waist and squeezing gently. "Hey, I'm sorry. I just have never seen you worry about people's feelings before."

Regina's head snapped up in outrage.

"Well I mean aside from your lover, or your son," Emma hastily amended. "But that's good. You know. Friends are good," she finished lamely.

Regina cocked her head, well aware of the unspoken subtext. That she was finally growing if she could maintain healthy friendships.

She sighed and glanced outside. Dawn was well and truly over. _Damn it. _She leaned over and reached inside her bedside table drawer and pulled out a small rectangle. It looked like a thin piece of glass but it was far more valuable than that.

Regina strode to the windowed doors and held it to her eyes.

_Oh no._

"What's that?" Emma asked picking up her sack, and sifting through it, making sure she had everything.

"It's the magical realm's equivalent of a telescope. And Emma, we have a problem. I think you've left your departure too late."

She handed the rectangle to the blonde and watched as she found what Regina had seen. A miniature zoomed view of Snow and James, looking worried and angry, and a motley band of former Storybrooke residents. They were stealthily moving their way up the ravine. Not only were they getting dangerously close to Scapulus's territory but if a scout bird saw them, Cora could activate the trebuchet and turn them into small smears that matched the red earth below.

"Shit! What do we do? I have to warn them," Emma looked panicked as she handed back the glass.

"We can't warn them. But we can send them back," Regina said. She opened the balcony doors and lifted her arms, muttering a spell that would do the trick nicely. A low mist suddenly rolled in out of nowhere, filling the bottom of the ravine and reducing visibility to only a foot in front of the invaders.

"The scout birds won't spot them; Scapulus won't see them. They'll have to turn back now as they can't see the way ahead," Regina said with satisfaction.

"Well that's just great but what about me?" Emma said, anxiety rising. "How the hell will I be able to navigate the swelter pools if I can't even see where they begin and end?"

Regina stared at her. She'd forgotten about those. She thought hard, trying to recall the incantation. She raised one arm and began to recite the spell.

"OK, you have about an hour. I basically froze the pools for that long. You'd better get a move on though."

Emma nodded. They suddenly locked eyes and realised there was no certainty everything would play out as they hoped. No certainty of ever seeing each other again.

"Regina, I..."

"Me, too."

"I am sorry we didn't get the chance to find _this_ in Storybrooke," Emma said softly, "I think we wasted a lot of time being confused by what we were really feeling for each other."

"I admit I was a little paranoid about you wanting to take Henry off me…" Regina conceded with a tiny smile.

"A _little_?" Emma teased back.

"I do regret we couldn't have had more time," Regina continued, seriously, "It feels like we've been through so much and … we might still lose each other."

"Not gonna happen," Emma said firmly. "Now listen to me – no heroics. I know your mother deserves everything that's coming to her, but don't you dare risk a hair on your head to do it. We'll find another way if we have to."

"My hero," Regina mocked with a small smirk.

"I mean it. You're my woman. I will tear Cora limb from limb if I find out anything's happened to you." Emma's chest rose and fell sharply, and Regina gave a pleased smile, wrapping her arms around her.

"Standing up for me again, my dear," she husked. "A girl could get used to this."

"Better believe it," Emma said, sticking out her bottom lip obnoxiously. Regina couldn't resist leaning in the short distance and kissing it.

"You know, when you stood up for me in front of Cora, when she attacked me, I had never felt so loved in my entire life," Regina said softly. "I will _never_ forget that. I still don't think I have the words to properly thank you for it."

"No one gets to hurt you and get away with it," Emma growled.

"The same goes for you," the brunette said sternly. "Don't you _dare_ get yourself killed again. I am only just getting over the shock of having you back this time. If anything happens to you, there will be _consequences_."

For the briefest of moments a darkness flashed across her eyes as she felt the rage growing at even the thought of losing the blonde. It was only when Emma stared at her, faintly alarmed, that she realised she was scaring her a little, and forced herself to shake it off. She wondered if she'd ever completely lose that dark side of herself. The demons. She tried to smile but her lips trembled.

"Never again – hear me?" she ordered.

"I hear you," Emma agreed.

Both women stared at each other, memorising their lover for the longest of heartbeats.

They leaned forward, kissed passionately, powerfully, hands winding into hair until they pulled apart, breathless.

"Go now," Regina said pushing her away with difficulty. "And be careful - Cora's room shares this balcony at the other end. Make sure you're not seen going over the edge."

"I'll be safe. Make sure you are, too. Henry needs _both _his mothers. He said as much."

The brunette's breath caught and she pushed the instant gut-wrenching response down as far as she could, pursing her lips. "Goodbye," she whispered, eyes begging Emma to be safe.

"See you soon," the blonde grinned shaking her head at Regina's finality. She looked her warmly in the eye. "Love you, Regina."

And within moments she had dropped to her knees and crawled away, disappearing all too quickly over the lip of the balcony and into a foggy haze below.

_Love you, too, Emma, _Regina whispered to herself.

. . . . . . . . .

Regina entered the kitchen with a feeling of dread that worsened the moment she saw a puffy-faced Rosemary, and a steely-eyed Clarice comforting her.

Cook, for her part, seemed to be pummelling bread dough with more vigour than was absolutely necessary, lips in a thin disapproving line._ Uh oh. She had clearly finally joined the dots._

Clarice rose and met her at the door, arms crossed. She hissed: "Really, Your Highness? Whatever happened to _not _hurting Rose?"

"This is none of your business, Clarice."

"Rose _is _my business. Does she look fine to you?" Clarice snapped softly and they both turned to examine the blonde holding herself miserably in the corner.

Regina sighed and cleared her throat. "Rosemary, could I have a word with you, please?"

Clarice put her hands on her hips, blocking her best friend's path.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" the redhead hissed at Regina insolently. "Are you planning to break her heart _twice_? I mean unless that was the reincarnation of your great long-lost love splayed out in your bed then you're nothing more than a..."

_"__It was__."_

Clarice's mouth dropped open.

"What?" she croaked.

"You heard me," she said sharply, no longer tolerating the other woman's disrespect.

Clarice sensed the shift and dropped her head. "Uh ... how come… you didn't know she was alive?"

"Cora," Regina snarled.

It was all she needed to say.

Clarice nodded and flushed a little. "Apologies for assuming, Majesty," she said contritely. She turned to the blonde curled up in the corner and said softly. "Rose, sweetie, Her Majesty would like to talk to you."

The fiery redhead turned back, dipped her head respectfully and left the room, shooting a sympathetic glance back as she left. Whether it was for Regina or Rosemary, the brunette wasn't sure.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Regina led Rosemary out to a secluded garden and they sat on a bench, eyeing a bed of blooming white lilies.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, Rosemary. I honestly did not know she was alive," the brunette began softly.

"She is the woman you thought was buried in the cottage?"

"Yes."

"So she is your great love? Your true love?" the blonde asked.

Regina couldn't contain the joy as she nodded. Her lips twitched and eyes sparkled. "She is."

Rosemary regarded her. "Then I am happy for you," she said. "I hated the thought you would take just anyone to your bed when you knew how I felt for you. But now, I see, you were waiting. For her."

The brunette smiled again. "Perhaps I was."

Small pale hands daringly reached over and squeezed Regina's. "I am sorry for reacting the way I did. It was an awful shock, Your Majesty. I do admire you so."

Regina looked at their entwined fingers and gave her a reassuring squeeze. "Let's not speak of it again. But I want you to know I do care about you. And I believe you will find your own true love one day, dear. And she will be _much_ better than me," she said with a self-deprecating smirk.

Rosemary gasped: "Never, majesty. You are perfect!"

The brunette arched an eyebrow. "Well I can't say I have ever been called that before.

"By the way, Rosemary, there is something else. If you ever see a demon vulture on the balcony, you are to get Cook and Clarice, and anyone else you love and trust and flee the castle at once. Do you understand?"

"I... yes." Her eyes held fear.

"Soon this regime will fall and I would hate for you to be caught up in it. That will be the signal it is over. There may not be time for me to rescue you. But Emma - that is the woman you saw me with this morning - has friends and they may come to help. If they do, it is safe to go with them. But of course I will do everything in my power to help you if I am able."

"Thank you, Majesty."

"Now we'd best go or people will talk," she teased.

"_Ohh, I wish_," Rosemary said with a faint blush.

They walked in companionable silence back to the palace.

A shadow was waiting and Regina's face fell. The formidable and furious shape of Cora Mills greeted them at the door like an asp poised to strike.

"Leave us," the older woman barked at the servant.

Rosemary looked at her in alarm and scurried away.

A sick sensation flooded Regina's body.

"What are you playing at now, child?"

"Whatever do you mean, Mother?"

"This valley has not had a natural mist in thirty years so when one slides up my balcony this morning, what am I supposed to think?"

"I have no idea, Mother. I was as surprised to see it as you."

"Perhaps," Cora ground out, eyeing her daughter closely. "Or perhaps you are hiding secrets from me, hmm?" An arm snaked out and grabbed a fistful of hair yanking Regina's head back.

"What are you up to? You think I can't recognise one of YOUR spells? Do you think me a fool?"

"N-no Mother."

"It was HER wasn't it?"

Regina swallowed in fear. "H-her? Who?"

"That pretty little blonde." Cora snapped her head back even further and pain lanced along Regina's screaming neck.

She had to force her hands from trembling.

"You were just with her," Cora snapped. "The servant girl. Are you hiding the fact you are involved in sexual congress with the kitchen staff? Perhaps you slept in a little later with your filthy tryst and wanted to blind my scout birds? She seems your type nowadays. Just like the dead Swan girl?"

_Filthy tryst?_ Regina's brain sputtered. _Because her mother's own sex life was so perfectly vanilla._

The brunette swallowed. It seemed to be an admission of guilt because Cora let go of her hair.

"I thought so. Trust you to go for the help yet again. You are truly pathetic, Regina. If it wasn't for my wedding, I would consider dropping you into a swelter pool right now for shaming me like this."

Regina's eyes narrowed. _Well tell me what you really think, Mother._

"I suppose I could just drop _her _in instead..." Cora commented thoughtfully.

Panic flooded the brunette but before she could react a messenger ran up to them. "Majesty?"

Both their heads snapped to look at the boy. "King Midas is on his way. He wishes an urgent meeting."

Cora's eyebrows rose. "What does he want?"

"I don't know, Your Highness, but he was insistent on seeing King George and he says it involves you, too."

"All right, how long before he arrives?"

"He's already cresting Razorback Mountain."

Regina's eyes rose. He must have left almost immediately after her secret meeting to be so close.

"That is all," Cora snapped to the messenger who raced away. "I will have to make preparations," she said to herself.

She glanced at Regina. "Perhaps it wasn't your mist after all. But don't let me catch you with her again.

"Now, I must get ready. What could he want? Perhaps a new alliance? The old one fell through when George's unappreciative imposter son ran off before the wedding to Midas's child."

Regina merely nodded and watched as her mother ran through theories. Predictably they were all grandiose and centred on her impending marriage. Not one hit on the truth. Which wasn't surprising.

The brunette glanced through the windows. The mist had lifted. Emma would be back with the Storybrooke army by now and hopefully convincing them to stay out of sight until Regina could bring this alliance down herself.

"Are you even listening to me at all? I swear at times you are as useless as your father," Cora snapped. "Well go and get cleaned up." She paused and sniffed, an appalled expression crossing her face. "And what is that revolting perfume? Never mind. Wash and return in time for Midas's visit. Hurry!"

Cora left in a swirl of wafting silks and self-importance and Regina watched her go, feeling oddly detached.

Soon, very soon, all hell would break loose.

A small smile threatened the corners of her mouth.

She couldn't wait.


	11. Chapter 11

**A LEDGER SQUARED IN BLOOD  
By Scribes and Scrolls**

**A/N: Yikes 11,000 words, how'd that happen? Thanks to my beta reader Indiana for wading through it all and giving me some great ideas, and to Nad for helping me name little Nikolai. Meanwhile small trigger warning for passing reference to abuse. We're on the home run now, peeps. Please enjoy.**

**CHAPTER ELEVEN: REAP WHAT YOU SOW **

Emma was breathing hard as she made her way through the mist. The swelter pools, as Regina had promised, had frozen over hard with a grey icy film. That was the good news. The bad news was they were slippery as hell and she had already gone for two uncontrolled skids. She had only barely managed to keep her feet. The problem then came when she righted herself. She locked her knees and turned ever so slowly, a prickling fear rising up as she found she had no clue which way led to the Storybrooke army's encampment.

If she began to just walk would she end up back at the castle? Or right under Scapulus's nest? She swallowed anxiously. _Shit. What the hell was she supposed to do now?_

"Miss Knight?" She heard a tiny voice and she looked down to find a small animal peering up at her with an earnest expression.

Emma grinned, relieved to see something familiar in the thick pea soup. He was bulbous and pink and furry in all the wrong places but huge brown eyes gazed at her, a veritable monument to adorable patheticness.

She crouched down. "Hey, we meet again."

His furry face transformed, looking thrilled. "I was hoping you might remember me, Miss. You kindly gave me water when I was thirsty once."

"Yeah," Emma said. "Of course I remember. What's up?"

"I am Nikolai," he said. He paused in what seemed like nervousness. "You are very famous, Miss Knight. All the animals know of you." He stopped as if unsure how to phrase his next sentence.

Emma waited, eyebrow cocked.

"I was wondering if I could ask you a favour, if you're not too busy, if it'd not be too much trouble … Miss Knight, could you come and meet my family? They're not far." The last sentences rushed out quickly.

A silence fell between them as Emma processed the odd and surprising request.

"Nikolai, I sort of have to get back," Emma hesitated. She didn't want to be rude, but the frozen swelter pits and mist would only be in place for a little while.

"Of course, I am sorry, Miss Knight. I should have realised." The creature's head drooped and Emma felt thoroughly lousy.

"Mind if I ask why, though?" she asked kindly, eyeing his sad expression.

Nikolai gazed at the ground for a moment and finally admitted: "I told my family I had met you, Miss, and..." little spindly fingers played with her boots nervously, "the thing of it is, Miss Knight, they didn't exactly believe me. My cousins all laughed at me." His voice faded into a sorrowful whisper. He flushed deeply, still staring at the ground, appearing utterly despondent.

_Well crap. _Emma knew the score on being humiliated – let's face it, her whole freaking childhood was one humiliation after the other – nothing like being 'the foster kid'. She firmed her lips together at the memories. No two ways about it. 'Family' could be cruel.

_What the hell, a few minutes out of her way to make the little dude's day couldn't hurt, right? _

Decided, she stood. "Well then, we'd better not keep 'em waiting," she declared, biting back her smile.

"Oh Miss!" Nikolai beamed and he stared up at her in adoration.

Emma finally cleared her throat when he showed no sign of movement. "So, which way then?"

"This way, this way!" he burbled excitedly, and took off at a fierce pace, skilfully bouncing over rocks and dodging tundra.

The blonde gingerly followed, inching across the frozen pits, desperate to keep her balance. A few times, when the mist covered Nikolai's darting form, she called out and he raced back to wait for her impatiently.

Eventually the ground rose a little and Nikolai skidded to a sudden halt. Emma blinked, trying to see where she was, making out nothing but a line of small rocks that came up no higher than her calves.

Suddenly rows and rows of brown eyes bobbed up above the natural rock wall and grew huge. She heard myriad "ooooohs" in impressed little voices, each as impossibly cute as the next.

"Uh, hi guys," Emma began. She really wasn't great with kids, whatever the species. "My, er, friend Nikolai here said I should come by. So, ah, hello." She rammed her hands uncomfortably back in her jacket pockets.

More amazed "oooohs" sounded and if Emma didn't know better she'd swear the little marsupial by her boot had just swelled out his chest and turned bright red in delight. She bit back a grin, suddenly incredibly pleased she'd done this for him.

Now lots of tiny Nikolai clones bounced over to her and jumped all over her boots. The littlest ones just hugged her footwear as if claiming her as their own. She could hear lots of squeaky high-pitched questions, the most common being "Are you really the White Knight?"; "We've heard about you!" "Are you here to save the realm from the Evil Two?"

"Shush, shush now," and older voice cut through the squeals. Very slowly, waddling out from behind the rocks, came a larger marsupial, grey fur covering a rotund, creaky body. Sharp black eyes peered at the youngsters. "Let the White Knight go about her business. That'll be more important than us all gawping at her, I'd warrant."

The animals moaned and awwwed in unison but immediately bounced and tumbled back behind the rocks and disappeared. The older creature held Emma's gaze respectfully for a moment and then turned and slowly followed them. Emma could have sworn she saw a warmth twinkling there, and the way her eyes gently flicked over to the delighted Nikolai, she suspected she knew why.

The animal in question tugged at Emma's jeans until she bent over to hear what he had to say. "That was my Ma you just met," Nikolai said earnestly. "She doesn't say much," he added redundantly. "Anyway thank you so much, Miss Knight. If there's anything I can ever do for you, just ask."

He looked at her gratefully.

Emma shrugged. "Sure thing. Hey, I don't suppose you know which way to the encampment?"

He didn't need to be told which one. Emma suspected all the animals in the ravine had been aware the moment a bunch of humans began banging and hammering up a base in their territory.

Nikolai pointed a spindly finger. "That way, Miss Knight," he said easily.

The blonde felt a jolt of enormous relief course through her. _Not lost. Thank God. _She grinned down at her new friend.

"Thanks Nik." She began to head off in the direction he pointed.

He nodded once and bounded back to join his family.

As she moved away, behind her she could hear tiny sighs and giggles from her adoring fans.

She smirked to herself. _Too funny._

The blonde ploughed on as fast she dared, given the grey-out conditions, eager to make up for lost time. The mists were starting to lift. She was therefore enormously relieved she was almost back at the copse of trees she knew hid Storybrooke's army.

_Well thank God for tha_... OOMPH.

"EMMA!" her mother exclaimed, seemingly appearing out of nowhere to fling her arms around Emma.

The blonde started in surprise. Snow pulled back just as quickly to slap her arm lightly. "Where have you been?! We were worried sick when you didn't come back this morning. What have you been doing for so long?"

Images of Emma wrapped around Regina's naked body kissing away trails of perspiration across glowing, soft, female curves flooded her brain. The moment Regina's swirling sensual tongue had slid inside her and made her almost arch off the bed was a particularly vivid memory. She shifted uncomfortably and flushed deepest red, cursing her pale skin.

Naturally it took her mother less than a second to clock her expression and exhale sharply, eyes narrowing.

"Really, Em?! Snow sighed in exasperation, her hands flying to her hips. "You were _supposed_ to be on a mission. Not doing _that_. There's a time and a place!"

The blonde folded her arms and glared. "You have no idea what we have just been through. Did you know Regina thought I was dead all this time?"

"I uh..."

"She thought Cora had bombed the cottage with _me in it_. She was an absolute mess when I found her last night. So I wasn't just amusing myself, I was comforting a woman who needed me. Who loves me. And then … ah … we kinda fell asleep," she added sheepishly.

"Oh ..."

"Em," Snow said more carefully now, "I appreciate this was a difficult reunion for you both, but you did at least get a chance to discuss our plans with her?"

Emma rolled her eyes. "Of course. And Regina is more than willing to help us."

Snow hesitated for a moment. "Yet she is nowhere to be seen. She hasn't returned with you." She watched Emma closely, suspicion clouding her eyes.

"Regina has her own plans in place," Emma said. "She couldn't leave just yet."

Snow stared at her sceptically. "And we know this how? She could be tricking you."

The blonde's eyes narrowed. "I can tell when people lie to me," she said sharply. "Look, Regina only needs a day or two at most. She says she has a plan already in place to bring down the alliance herself. "

"Emma, please don't take this the wrong way, but don't you think that's awfully convenient? We have a mission, she has _exactly_ the same one and, guess what, it's already underway? But all you have to do is _leave now_? I mean, come on, Em."

The blonde let out a shuddering breath to prevent herself from snapping the first insult that came to mind.

"I know your history with her," Emma said evenly, controlling her anger, "But ask yourself: What has she got to gain? She _hates_ her mother. She has no reason to stay but for revenge. If nothing else you have to know how dedicated Regina is to _that_ cause.

"I am also asking you as your friend and … as your daughter … trust us, trust _me_, when I say Regina is going to do this. This is no trap."

Snow took in her daughter's features for a long moment. Emma bit her lower lip, anxiously. It had not occurred to her Regina wouldn't be believed. Of course it made sense – so much suspicion and fear.

Finally Snow spoke. "People in love always see what they want to see," she said softly. She put up a hand swiftly to stall Emma's protest. "But perhaps people in hate are just the same." She gave her daughter a crooked smile.

"And I have spent a very long time not trusting a word Regina Mills says, hating what she did to me – what she did to us. Even in Storybrooke the tension was always there between us, even though I never knew why. But…"

Emma looked at her hopefully, relieved when her mother suddenly quirked her mouth ruefully.

"I will trust you, Em. After all, this is the reason we sent _you_ on this mission. It was always the way – if anyone could get to Regina, in every sense, it was you." Her eyes sparked for a moment and she added: "Besides, you are right about one thing – Regina is _very_ good at embracing revenge."

Emma quirked her lips. "Yeah," she agreed, and smiled lazily: "Guess I should never ever cross her."

Snow snapped her head up: "Finally I think you understand my concerns."

"I was kidding," Emma growled in exasperation.

"Were you?" Snow asked seriously. "She still has it, you know. Her dark side. No one can just wipe it away for good, I don't care how many magic tricks she has."

An image of Regina's cold face threatening consequences to anyone harming Emma appeared before the blonde's eyes and she felt that familiar disconcerted sensation. She pushed the thought away.

"I think this discussion is for between Regina and me," she said firmly. "I know you want the best for me, but I am an adult. And so there's no confusion – I still choose Regina. Flaws and all. There is nothing you can do to change that." She felt her chin lift a little in spite of herself.

Snow eyed her thoughtfully. She sighed and bit back something obviously on the tip of her tongue. "I have to consider everyone," she said slowly. "You have your reasons for believing in Regina. I just hope you're right. You're asking people to risk everything on your say-so.

"Alright, let's head back. We can brief everyone about palace news over breakfast."

. . . . . . . .

"This is insane!" The shout from a furious mechanic almost pinned back Emma's ears.

"This is not a debate," James growled, "And I'll thank you not to speak to my wife and daughter like that."

They watched as the man Emma knew as Michael threw an appalled look at all of Storybrooke's residents who were seated at long tables and benches under a large tent. He finally swore and stalked off.

Snow and Emma had just explained Regina's intention to destroy the alliance from within. The sounds of chewing and gulping and the clatter of utensils were all that could be heard as food and tactics were digested simultaneously. But clearly not everyone was happy.

Michael had declared it had to be a trap, that Regina was without a heart and untrustworthy and anyone who believed otherwise was a fool. He had then furiously declared they should attack immediately.

Emma's pleas about the hidden trebuchet had been met with derision as he had pointed out no one, including the blonde had even seen it.

_Actually_, the sheriff thought, _he did have a point_.

But then the shouting had begun.

"That bitch ruined all our lives, stole all our happy endings, our, our families …" his voice broke, "… screwed us all over, and now, just because Mills asks the sheriff nicely, we're supposed to sit on our hands for days and not attack? Well I'm calling 'trap' on this! She's a lying manipulator - if her lips are moving she's crafting evil."

James put up a silencing hand. "She has no reason to lie to us. She hates her mother..."

"Says YOU!" Michael shouted, "Who really knows what lies she tells to make us believe…"

"I have seen it!" Emma cried out, leaping to her feet, "Cora _tortured_ Regina for God's sake. I watched as Cora whipped her, beat her, stripped her, mocked her. Regina was powerless and humiliated. And that was just the one time I saw. It's been happening all her life."

A shocked silence fell across the room. The idea their fearsome mayor could be undone in such a way rocked everyone. Only the ragged breathing of Michael could be heard and Emma suddenly felt sick. She shouldn't have said any of that. Regina would have been horrified for them to all know her secret. But she had to make them see – Cora was the menace who had to be stopped. Regina would never fight at that woman's side. But now everyone knew … _that_.

She felt a warm hand slip over hers and she glanced worriedly at Snow. The other woman's eyes held hers kindly. "I always suspected," the brunette said sadly. "But knowing the specifics? It does explain a few things."

Michael tilted his head, ears picking up the words. " 'Explains things?' Sure," he mocked. "Changes things? No. Not all the hurt kiddies grow up and do what she did."

His venom and complete lack of sympathy did not seem shared by the rest of the room, however. Emma slipped her eyes around the sea of disturbed faces. Red's eyes had tears in them. Granny looked enraged, as if she was about to take Cora's head off, even as she patted her own granddaughter's hand reassuringly.

Snow seized on the silence and rose: "What can a delay hurt?" she asked the room. "We wait a few days, so what?"

"No!" said Michael shaking his head viciously, "We go now, before they can get their defenses in place."

"We attack _now_ and the evil alliance is _strengthened_," Emma retorted. "George and Cora get married and start a whole bunch of wars. Attack them now, assuming we survive the trebuchet being hurled at us, the 'Evil Two' will band even closer together. However Regina's plan will divide and conquer."

"And what _is_ this crafty little plan of Regina's?" Michael asked. "Bet she didn't even tell you."

At her stunned silence he laughed harshly. "That's what I thought - because it doesn't exist. Wake up! You're being manipulated!"

Michael flung his hands up dramatically, waving at the lack of support he was getting. "This is ridiculous!" he called out. "Time someone says what you're all thinking: Regina Mills has made our sheriff her little pet, cast a spell on her or whatever and she can't even think straight now.

"You've _changed_, Sheriff," his voice dropped to a disappointed hiss. He shook his head. "And you're leading us all to our deaths. _Some saviour you are_."

Emma's eyes flashed and she shifted. But Snow reacted faster.

"Stop it!" Snow glared at the mechanic. "We're not attacking yet and that's all there is to it. Do you hear me?"

There was silence for a beat and then... a small voice: "Regina's changed, too."

Despite its quietness the voice somehow seemed to cut through the room's ambient noise. Everyone was now staring at Emma. The blonde blinked and then realised in astonishment she was the one who'd said the thought out loud.

Michael snorted. "Evil like _that_ doesn't know the meaning of the word. _Nothing_ can change a creature like her."

A murmur went through the room and voices agreed and disagreed. They were stilled when a loud voice barked out: "Love can."

Now all eyes swung to the back of the room to find the owner of the gruff voice.

"Well it can," the voice said again. It was defensive. Its owner rose to his feet so everyone could see him. "If losing love can make someone change - and trust me I know all about that - why can't the opposite be true?"

Michael spun to stare at the interjector, a betrayed expression plastered across his features. "_Grumpy_?" he scowled. "You believe this shit?" his arm indicated the Charmings' table.

"I believe love has more power in it than any force on earth," the smaller man said, and crossed his arms. He glared at his friend, sticking out his chin obstinately.

"_Love_? But that means you think the evil bitch..." Michael swung his eyes back to the sheriff, "And her are ... they're in ..."

"Not saying any such thing," Grumpy declared and sat back down with a heavy thud. "Just pointing out the obvious. But if... you know … what you say is true, then yeah, I believe even Madame Mayor can change. Let's face it, she could have strung up Snow's kid for all to see. I'll be honest – I half expected her to. And yet she let her go. What does that tell ya?

"Well?" he gave Michael a challenging glare. "Most powerful force on earth is all I'm sayin'."

He exhaled impatiently. "And 'sides the sheriff is many things but she's no idiot."

Emma scowled at the backhanded compliment. _Or was it a compliment?_

"Now can everyone just give it a rest?" he continued. "We're supposed to be on the same team. And you're giving me indigestion." He scooped up a spoonful of beans and ate them grouchily.

Emma looked down at her plate in embarrassment. Oh hell.

_Had she just been outed by Michael and Grumpy as loving Regina – and vice versa?_ She peered up under her eyelashes at the crowd fearfully and watched as people shrugged and went back to their food. She could see eyes flick to hers every now and then, and knowing looks registered her expression. But they said nothing. _Care factor nil._

Only Michael continued to glower darkly, his movements jerky and angry. All appeals to his reason and emotion had failed. He was just pure rage. Emma started to seriously wonder if the man was unhinged. Ever since the curse had broken, he had been devastated at all the time he'd lost away from his children. And deeply ashamed he had tried to turn his back on them in Storybrooke.

_He should be with them now._

She wondered if she should suggest it to her parents. He might have volunteered to fight but he was too unfocused to be of much use. Judging by the narrow look on her father's face, he'd reached the same conclusion. But before anyone could open their mouth, the mechanic had filled the air with curses and had stormed off.

Emma winced.

"You OK, Em?" Her mother's soft brown eyes regarded her sympathetically.

"That was ... unsettling. And the stuff about me and Regina. Hell … I felt like a zoo exhibit."

"Mmm," Snow agreed sympathetically. "Look, big deal – so they know about you and Regina, now. But, really Em, most of them had long suspected. You and she always had _something_ there. Everyone felt it. Regina was always a different woman when you were around."

Emma's shoulders slumped. She couldn't disagree.

"Em, look at it this way – the secret's out now and the worst is over, right?"

"Hope so," Emma muttered, feeling exposed and miserable. She so didn't want to talk about it anymore. She pushed her spoon around the metal plate and sighed plaintively. "Refried beans? Who dreamed this up for an army living in close quarters?"

Snow chuckled and she leaned over and whispered: "I dare you to take it up with Granny."

Emma winced. "That's fine. I've seen what she's like with pointy sticks. Really don't want to piss off that woman."

Snow smirked. "I couldn't agree more. Be glad you weren't here for our last inter-realm war – the woman insisted we learn to love her spicy entrails stew. Said it was high in protein. She could not be reasoned with."

Emma paled. She scooped up a spoon of beans and eyed them sceptically. "Did I mention how delicious these were?" she drawled.

Snow quirked an eyebrow. "Eat up, Em – in fact have mine. You'll need all your strength. It's time I introduced you to the crossbow."

Emma glowered darkly as the other woman's plate was shoved in front of hers. "_Right_."

. . . . . . .

Regina sat outside the dining room on a low, roughly hewn timber bench and listened to the world's most unholy row. Her legs were stretched out before her, crossed at the ankles and she gazed out through the open windows opposite her in the corridor. To all the world she appeared completely unconcerned, a mere bystander to the war raging within.

She noted the verdant emerald forest pines in front of her in some part of her brain, but her mind was whirring like a wind-up toy. Her heart was pounding ferociously. She had clasped her hands together, trying to hide the anxious way she was twisting her fingers and worked on stilling her features. Any passing servant would note the queen's daughter waiting patiently for the argument to be over.

Regina's ears, however, strained to hear every syllable uttered in the room directly behind her_. _

Midas's visit had been mercurial to say the least. He had strode in like the arrogant, pretentious royal he had always been and insisted on seeing George alone.

King George had then kicked out all the servants as well as Cora and Regina, who had been sharing breakfast in the dining room.

The younger woman had eyed her mother outside the room, watching her expression collapse from thrilled by the prospects of the man's visit to vastly offended. She could see all Cora's plans for alliances evaporating as the older woman realised something had gone wrong somewhere.

"What the hell does he want?" she hissed to herself for the fifth time, stalking back and forth in front of the closed door. "That weasel. Midas never could stand George but I thought we were past petty feuds. I thought, finally, we could build an empire. Why, we could even…"

Regina tuned her out, not interested in her mother's lofty ambitions for them all any more now than she was as a teenager hearing Leopold's proposal. The woman had learned nothing about playing with fire. It was what made her so predictable, and now so perfectly susceptible to being incinerated.

Regina wisely kept her own counsel and said nothing, dociley eyeing her mother striding to and fro as the two kings conferred. Cora was ignoring her anyway.

Midas finally flung open the great door and strode out, an insufferably smug look on his face, which only shifted to disgust the moment he passed Cora. Then he left to rejoin his men camped in the palace grounds.

Regina nodded politely as he stormed past. He barely noticed her. There was no hint or flicker of recognition. _Nor should there be_, she thought to herself, pleased.

"CORA!" George's enraged voice barked from deep within the room, "Get in here, NOW!"

Cora's expression had been priceless. Regina wondered if anyone in her life had ever spoken to her mother like that before. She had risen to go inside, too, well aware her role was to seem an innocent party in all this.

"Not you, Regina," George ground out, forcing himself to be civil. His eyes flicked back to his fiancée and he growled as he stabbed a finger at Cora. "Just HER."

Regina merely nodded, muttered "Of course, Your Highness," and slipped past them. She closed the door behind her, careful to leave it ajar. She had then sat on the bench outside and waited for the fireworks to begin. It was not a long wait.

"HOW COULD YOU!" George demanded. "I TRUSTED YOU!"

The brunette smirked. _Good start. _She couldn't make out Cora's exact words but the tone was indignant. She could just imagine her mother telling him to keep his voice down for appearances, sake.

"WHY would he say it was YOU if it wasn't?!" he bellowed.

More mutterings. She could now hear her mother's inflection rising. But George wasn't even half done.

Regina next heard the furious words: "HOW WOULD HE KNOW ABOUT IT IF YOU DIDN'T TELL HIM? YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS! THE ONLY ONE I TOLD!"

_Ah the old birthright secret. Probably shouldn't leave one's documents lying around in trunks for anyone to find_, Regina mused, examining her fingernails.

There was more low talking from Cora. The brunette imagined her mother feebly protesting her innocence. She now sounded confused. With good reason.

"FOR PITY'S SAKE WOMAN - YOU TRIED TO BETRAY ME," he thundered. " YOU TOLD MY ARCH NEMESIS 'WHY SETTLE FOR A MULE WHEN ONE CAN HAVE A STALLION!'. I AM A 'MULE' NOW?"

Regina smiled. That had been a rather inspired line of hers. Something Cora might say to butter up a new suitor while running down her old one.

_And George hadn't even gotten to the good stuff yet._

Regina could hear Cora's innocent protestations now, claiming she hadn't visited the other king, and hadn't made him offers. She actually sounded stressed now. Regina found she liked hearing that. She wondered idly if she had ever once heard that emotion from her mother. _Probably not._

"YOU TRIED TO TRADE UP! CORA – YOU EVEN OFFERED HIM YOUR BODY!"

Now she heard an outraged cry from her mother. _Oh, no, Cora would not like that one little bit. _

Indeed, her mother finally cracked her normally steely veneer. More demands he stop shouting. And then…

"That is PROOF it wasn't me, George! You know I would never do that," she shrieked. "I am no common whore." She spat out the last words.

No, Cora wouldn't offer herself to be Midas's new queen, in exchange for a dowry of documents proving his hated rival was really born of common parentage. But for some reason, Midas certainly seemed to _think_ she had. He even seemed to _think_ she had virtually thrown herself at him, body and soul. Regina grinned and leaned her head back. _Fancy that. _

_The ideas people get._

There was a sharp slapping noise. Regina cocked her head. Someone was certainly being slapped. She'd lay good odds George now had a nasty red handmark on his face.

And George still hadn't gotten to the best bit. The bit that proved, at least to George's mind, Midas hadn't been lying about the identity of his seductive visitor.

Regina waited, her heart beating even harder. She wished she could see the look on Cora's face when it happened.

"OF COURSE IT WAS YOU, YOU SCHEMING BITCH. YOU ACTUALLY TOLD THE TOAD YOU'D BE AVAILABLE TO BE SERVICED FROM …" he paused and then screamed "TOP TO … BOTTOM!"

Regina almost bit her lip in delight. Ahh. It did sound _so_ much more tawdry when a jealous lover spat it out. As opposed to when she had almost draped herself over the conservative old prune, dripping with seductive leers and lewd entendres, and had perfectly punched out the word "_bottom_", leaving no room for misinterpretation.

She could still recall the look of disgust on the old king's face as he'd then kicked her to the floor and told her to leave, saying he had no interest in allying himself with Cora Mills.

And then he gloatingly thanked her for the information that would ruin George, calling her a fool for giving up her bargaining chip without even securing her engagement to him.

_Oh yes_, Regina thought with a smirk_, how very careless of 'Cora'. Not to mention how ruinous the rest of it was - especially if such tawdry gossip got out. _

Another slap. Definitely Cora's – she recognised the low snarl that came with it, being on the receiving end more times than she could remember.

There was a crashing sound and two bodies appeared to thud up against the wall next to the door. She could now hear both enraged royals perfectly clearly.

"You sick little bitch," George spat. "You just couldn't resist climbing even higher. My court warned me about you before we got involved. They told me you were 'the most ambitious woman in the realm'. That you'd gone from poor trash and the daughter of a lowlife brothel madam to somehow getting your daughter married off to royalty."

Regina hissed in a breath. _Daughter of a brothel madam? Well, well. _As far as Regina knew, Cora's mother had died when she was young, a respected book keeper for an innkeeper.

_Mother had certainly been editing the family tree._

Cora's voice was low and filled with menace: "I don't know what you _think_ you know but I will not be judged on what my long departed mother did. You disrespectful bastard. And how dare you accuse me of these outrages? _Why_ would I want to trade you in? What have I _ever_ done that makes you think this?"

There was silence. Regina strained her ears and finally she heard her mother's low laugh, derisive and cruel. _Oh how she'd heard that so many times_.

"I believe I understand, dear," Cora sneered. "You think I would trade you in for Midas because deep down you think he IS the better man. And I do believe you're probably right. _He_ is the real power in this realm. You are little more than a title – and you didn't even earn that. Perhaps I should have made him that offer after all."

She heard a guttural growl and a howl of outrage. The door shook next to the wall.

"You just couldn't wait to be with a _rich_ king, could you Cora? Just a king alone was not enough. Even if it meant betraying me. I will NOT be betrayed by anyone."

"You fool - you're the one betraying me! _Think_! Who has the most to gain from breaking us up? Midas doesn't want us to be a new united force in his region - and he's still furious that fake son of yours ditched his daughter before the wedding.

"He has been fuming over that for years saying everyone laughed at him. So what did you think would happen? He'd just merrily bend over and take it from your family?"

"Well _you'd_ know all about _that_, wouldn't you, my dear," George roared. "Oh don't god damned look at me like that. Save your outrage for someone who buys your high-and-mighty perfect lady act. Hell Cora - now thanks to your tasteless little 'top-to-bottom' proposal, the whole realm is going to know how you like it, too.

"You think Midas will keep that detail to himself? Your fancy reputation you love so much, woman, is now right where you like your men."

There was a primal growl as Cora howled in rage. Regina had to force herself not to react. She had never heard so much venom from her mother and it was terrifying. She reminded herself she was not the target for once. Even so, she felt the blood drain from her face. It was time she made herself scarce. When those doors opened, anyone in Cora's path would discover just how well her mother knew ways to torture.

She rose slowly but couldn't quite bring herself to leave yet.

"I told you I did NOT do this, you ignorant oaf! I did not go to your arch enemy, spill our secrets, offer my body or try to 'trade up' as you call it. I have my honour to protect, you stupid fool."

"Says the daughter of a cheap whore."

There was another loud thud.

She winced. A flash of light went off and Regina realised her mother was probably flinging about some fireballs.

"Cora, for god's sake, put that away!"

There was a loud crash. Something blew up.

"Cora! I swear if you come any closer …"

"I did NOT do this, you fool!"

"Then how, woman! Tell me HOW Midas knows what he does?"

There was a silence. Regina bit her lip. She held her breath, hoping Cora did not start joining any dots.

The silence dragged on.

"There are spells – someone could have impersonated me." Her mother's voice was now a ragged, hoarse whisper.

"Someone who knows our most private deeds and secrets?" the king raged. "Tell me how this was done and I might believe you."

Silence stretched on again and finally Regina heard an explosion of anger.

"That's what I thought," George sneered. "But I am curious. Did you really think he would say yes to you? Look at you. Look at where you came from. You are pitiful. Worthless."

"_You_ said yes to me," the voice was low and dangerous.

Regina felt the air crackle with danger.

There was cruel masculine laughter. "You really thought I was marrying for you? Really?"

"What?! Why then! You will tell me!"

"It no longer matters. Our wedding is off. And for all I care, your palace can burn to the ground. I am going to make a deal with Midas before you salt the earth completely and it's too late. You were right about one thing – he _is_ the power in this realm."

Regina slowly began to creep away.

Cora's scorn was sharp and ferocious. "FOOL! You don't have a clue what power you're giving up."

"Power? Stupid woman. You do a few pretty tricks and stole a strategically valuable castle. And you're a divertingly dirty amusement. Not many queens like it the way you do. But your real worth – truthfully – it was all about your daughter."

The brunette froze. _What_?

"Regina? That foolish wretch? What has she got to do with anything?"

"You want to know what _real_ power is? You should have seen your daughter at her worst. I know – I did. And I don't mind admitting she is _terrifying_. She had this entire realm petrified of her. She could crook her finger and grown men would fall to their knees in terror.

"By marrying you, woman, I got Regina Mills - muzzled, leashed and in my back pocket - never posing a threat to me or my realm ever again. That's _your_ true value. Your powers of control over your spawn."

"Well then," Cora hissed. "You do know you lose all muzzles on my daughter the moment you throw me over. She'd do anything for me. She is dutiful! Doting! And, as you say, she can be terrifying to have as an enemy. Do you really want her as your enemy?"

Regina could hear fear lacing her mother's voice, her last roll of the dice to cling to power. It was astonishing. She stood rooted to the ground, listening.

"Really, Cora? Doting? Dutiful? You think me an imbecile. I have had the chance to observe Regina Mills these past weeks and she's not the unpredictable menace she was. In fact, _dear_, the way she looks at you when you're not looking… well I don't think the word is 'doting'. In fact," he laughed coldly, "If anyone has anything to fear from Regina these days, it's _not me_.

"So, Cora," he concluded, "I don't need you, your protection from _her_, or your simple parlour tricks anymore. And I can easily find another nasty whore who likes it the way you do, to warm my bed."

The explosion was immense. The door flew open and George ran out screaming in pain, clasping a hand to a burn on his face and ran down the hallway calling for his guards.

Regina realised he hadn't seen her and flew down the hallway in the other direction. She made it just around the corner, intending to peek back and watch the action out of sight, but impacted another body. She jumped in alarm.

"Clarice!" she snarled identifying the ample form. "_What_…?"

"Same as you," the redhead hissed. "Like I'd miss this. Kudos, Your Highness, looks like you pulled it off."

Regina let out a breath. "Yes. Although Mother may let loose Hell any minute. I suggest you get Rose and any others you want out of the palace. This will likely end very messily, very soon."

Clarice nodded and scurried away.

Regina strode quickly to her bedroom and flung open the balcony doors. She whistled sharply twice, and heard an echo around the canyon. A black speck in the distance suddenly rose and began to flap towards her. It soon filled her horizon and lowered itself on the balcony railing.

"Hail Majesssty," it rumbled, settling its wings.

"Scapulus," she smiled, "Well met. Friend, I need you to sit on this balcony for as long as you can. Don't let anyone try and scare you off it."

"It sssshall be so," the creature hissed. "But I may s-still greet the canyon light at morrow's dawn?"

"Of course, old friend. But return to this duty when you're done."

The bird inclined its head, stretching out its wings and resettling them.

"Oh, one last thing," Regina added, "If you see an army coming from the south, not wearing uniforms, but heading up the ravine, they are my allies. They are to be left alone."

"Majesty," the bird confirmed.

Regina smiled. "Thank you. I should be back later."

. . . . . . . . . . .

Emma swore colourfully and then pretended not to see her mother's outraged frown. _Please. It wasn't like Snow hadn't cursed plenty since she got her memories back. _

"He is going to wind up alerting Cora there's a force waiting for her," the sheriff ranted. "We have to move now if we want to get the jump."

"I know," James said. "He's jeopardising everything. What's he doing? Trying to find the trebuchet or something? He always was impulsive."

"Our only hope was the element of surprise," Snow sighed in irritation. "If the scout birds see him, and Cora loads up that weapon, we're all in trouble."

"It's not too late," Emma said. "All we have to do is get to him before the scout birds see him. We take people who can move fast, so we can get in, get out."

Everyone looked at each other. Wrangling an errant member of their own army who'd run off hadn't been how they'd planned their morning.

"OK," Snow agreed. "Us three, plus Red should be enough for now."

"Let's just hope the he has enough sense to stick to the vegetation and out of sight," James sighed.

. . . . . . . . . .

Cora Mills had never felt so much rage. Not even when her foolish daughter had almost jeopardised everything by demanding to stay with a simple stable boy over a king. _A king, for God's sake_. And now she felt the same rage rising within herself, this time directed at… she wasn't sure.

George had been convinced she had betrayed him. She felt bile at the words he'd said, the ways he'd hurt her intentionally. She was especially outraged her particular sexual proclivities were about to be spread around the realm.

She flushed in fury and horror even as she thought of it. Her reputation would be in tatters. Her eyes narrowed and she felt magical energies coursing through her body. There would be a reckoning.

But, no, George was not the cause of this outrage. Although she would make him suffer slowly if he did abandon the wedding as he'd claimed. Perhaps, that was salvageable when he calmed down, she decided. But first she needed proof of her innocence.

She considered Midas, the stiff pompous annoyance, who had a thin skin at any perceived slight. It would be just like him to spread their secrets to the four winds in spite.

But that didn't alter the fact he _had_ the secrets in the first place.

Cora frowned. What was she missing?

She took a step back. Who would know an impersonation spell to begin with? She considered the suspects. Maleficent probably could, but her spies told her she was dead. Another victim of her daughter's carelessness most likely.

She paused. _Regina_. She certainly had motive. But not the means. The woman's strength lay in manipulation rather than witchcraft. In fact Cora knew dozens of witches far better skilled in how to do the tricky spell than her erratic annoying offspring. Besides, even Regina wouldn't know those particular secrets, either.

Harriet, the crone, was the most talented of all the witches – she certainly had the ability. She was a master at manipulating all the creatures and constants in the universe. It was possible she had been paid to do it. But that particular witch hadn't been seen since the curse was cast.

Cora growled softly in frustration. She was not used to feeling a step behind in a scheme. She ruled the schemes. She was never _ever_ victim of them. Someone had bested her. And by God she would know their name by nightfall.

A low beep sounded and her head turned. A scout bird had landed by the window and she strode over and held out her hand. She could see its left eye was blinking – the signal for active intelligence, waiting to be downloaded and played back. She gave the signal.

Cora watched curiously as a rugged, angry looking man made his way purposefully along the ravine towards the palace. She stared hard and recognised the garments he was wearing as being from Storybrooke's modern fashions. Well, well. If one from that realm had arrived, there would be others. Snow and James probably had formed a little army. And their scout, creeping along the canyon, had just given them all away. _The fool._

She strode towards her bedroom, thinking furiously. Perhaps it was the Charmings who had a hand in this Midas outrage.

She recalled they travelled with a Blue Fairy. That irksome creature had both means and motive to impersonate her. And she wouldn't put it past her to be small enough to listen in on conversations not meant for human ears.

_Yes_, Cora, decided, _it was too much of a coincidence to be anything else_.

Lips thinned into a cold hard line. She would wipe the pathetic invaders off the face of the earth and present their bloodied bodies to George as proof a third party had been involved in this scheme. And he would unite with her once more.

Then all she would have to do is see to it her daughter had a nasty accident near a swelter pool and her only remaining thorn in her side would be gone.

Cora smiled as she contemplated her happy ending at last. She and George would wed, and Cora would finally have her place at the head of the table at last. Never again would she be mocked for her lowly status. She swallowed as an unbidden thought flitted past her brain.

Never again would she hear the words that still stung the first time she'd heard them. Words that had made her run home, weeping. A small girl at school asking: "Father says your mother is a dirty whore. And you're probably one, too."

Cora had made damned sure both that father and daughter had been the first two hearts she'd stolen since she'd overrun Wonderland. And then she'd crushed their hearts to dust. No one would ever refer to _that_ again. It had been the most satisfying experience of her life.

No one crossed her.

She briefly thought of George's mutinous comments. At a suitable time after the wedding, he might have to have a little accident, too. Some outrages should never go unpunished.

She flung open her balcony door and was startled to see an giant demon vulture perched on the railing. She eyed it and it eyed her.

She waved at it but it merely blinked. Cora growled. She lifted her hand showing off an enormous fireball, the threat needing no words.

"I will not leave thisss place. If you attack me, I _will_ retaliate and far fasssster than you can throw that."

Then it closed its eyes. However it rippled its wings showing its immense size and strength and as it did so, it readjusted its sharp talons on the balcony railing.

Cora got the message. _She didn't have time to fight on even more fronts._

"Fine," she snapped. "Just stay away from me, you disgusting buzzard."

Cora headed further along the balcony until she could see the outline of the trebuchet. She concentrated all her energies and began the spell she knew would arm it. The spell was the second-most draining in a magic practitioner's arsenal. Only teleporting was harder on the human body.

But when you had such a weapon at your disposal, one never needed another spell.

She watched in satisfaction as the wooden arm far below cranked back, and it let loose a fireball towards the encroaching man.

She was about to unleash more fiery balls in his direction when a movement behind him caught her eyes. She summonsed a macro vision spell, and suddenly she could see who was following his path.

_Well, well. The Charmings_. Cora scowled as she stared at another form creeping up the ravine. _Dear God, not HER, too_.

She wound back the trebuchet's arm magically. Oh, she would take great pleasure in erasing that persistent vicious blonde from her realm. She might have been too drained to do the job last time. But now nothing could stop her.

She shot her arm forward and watched as a series of cannon balls shot towards the group of four.

_Goodbye, Charmings._

. . . . . . . .

Emma, Snow, James and Red had spent the better part of an hour dodging and weaving huge mystic cannon balls.

Their prey seemed to have simply vanished, god knows where.

Red had been particularly agile, drawing fire until the others were in safer positions.

Emma had watched in astonishment when, at one point, she had leapt over a flaming ball, ricocheting her heels off it as she somersaulted away.

"Ten!" Emma called out to her in amazement.

"Huh?"

"Olympics score – you know, ten out of ten."

"Oh right," Red shouted back now running towards an escarpment. "Shame, thought you were saying _I _was a ten! Like you were admiring my supreme hotness."

Red grinned and dodged past another cannon ball.

"You do know Regina will flay you alive if you persist in flirting with me," Emma huffed in fake disapproval, diving expertly into a mound of dirt.

"I know," Red agreed, "Besides you deserve her, you had the guts and took the bull by the horns. All I ended up with was 30 packs of AA batteries."

She pouted mournfully and Emma laughed out loud when she caught the look.

"Um girls, we can both still hear you," Snow's voice called back in embarrassment as she darted towards a cliff on the far side. "And I do mean _both of us_."

"What does she mean by AA batteries?" a confused masculine voice asked in the distance. "Why would anyone need so many?" James's voice gradually faded and Emma laughed, relieved not to be an ear witness to her father's education on essential accessories for modern single girls.

She glanced around and worked out where everyone had gotten to.

Red had wound up pinned down directly under Scapulus's escarpment. She was perfectly safe but now unable to move. OK. Emma looked to her right.

Her parents, similarly, had found themselves taking shelter in a small fissure halfway up the cliff face. Cannonballs regularly peppered just in front of it, trying to destroy the rock's integrity and crush them in a land slide.

The tactic was starting to work. Emma could see they did not have much time, as rocks already began to slide down into the rocky gash.

That just left Emma free, but if she didn't know better, she'd say the person whose finger was on the firing enchantment had a particular vendetta for her. Given that was most likely to be Cora, that made a fair bit of sense.

The blonde had tripped and gone to ground and was now trying to commando crawl while still keeping an eye on the skies for the next missile, when her luck finally changed.

She heard a throat being cleared and snapped her head to the right to discover Nikolai observing her progress placidly. He looked for all the world like he was just out for a stroll.

"Uh," she muttered stupidly, feeling both in fear for her life, and faintly stupid as the creature watched her inching past.

"Miss Knight," he said. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, sure, fine," she muttered, spitting out a mouthful of dirt she'd accumulated half a minute ago. "Except for the bit about being attacked by an enormous trebuchet."

"Yes, I see that," the marsupial nodded. "I was wondering, actually, all of my family were, whether you needed some help? We didn't want to intercede without permission. We weren't sure whether this was some White Knight mission you felt important to complete on your own, Miss? For honour, perhaps." He blinked at her curiously.

"Ah Nik,, nope, no honour mission on the go here, but I doubt you could help – unless you know how to disable that huge freaking mystical slingshot over there."

She wiggled forward, not expecting an answer. Seriously, Regina had already told her the thing was impenetrable. It was like the freaking death star of magical killing machines. Super forcefield and destructive blasts. And all she had was … well, Nikolai – 1ft-nothing critter with patent baldness issues.

_Yeah, they were pretty much screwed_. She tracked an incoming ball with concern.

It landed far too close for her liking and she snapped her head around to look for Nikolai to make sure he was safe.

She saw the creature in a huddle with his cousins, which would have been adorable if they hadn't all been in the middle of a shoot-em-up range. Not that they seemed even remotely concerned.

Nikolai bounded back. "My cousins and me want to know if you want it completely destroyed, or merely disabled for future use, Miss?"

Emma spat out more dirt in astonishment. "What? I'd settle for either. But I mean completely destroyed would be my best pick – so Cora can't repair it. But how could you do that? I mean you know that thing has a force field around it – I mean it'd more than just mess up your fur if you touched that."

"We have lived with the wooden man in our valley for many moons – we have always known how to defeat it," Nikolai said casually. "It's obvious."

"Well uh … go for it!" Emma grinned at him, feeling like she'd crawled into The Twilight Zone.

"OK Miss," He almost saluted in his enthusiasm.

He bolted back to his cousins and before long they had bounded away towards the sandy ridge where the device sat.

Emma watched them go and immediately wiggled as fast as she could across the rocky ground to follow them.

"EM!" she heard her mother call, "Where on earth are you going? Stay down!"

"I may have a way to destroy the thing," she called back.

"Don't do anything crazy, Em, you said it yourself – it can't be defeated!"

"We have to do something!" she called out. "What have we got to lose?"

"Our lives!" Snow snorted.

"Hey Emma," Red called from the escarpment much further away, "do it for Regina! Think of all the great hero saviour sex you'll get if you pull this off!"

Emma gulped back a laugh, settling for a snicker. She could almost see her parents' sucking lemons' faces at that one. In fact she was sure she heard James' pained groan at the visual.

By the time the sheriff made it up the side of the embankment, which turned into the world's most enormous sand dune, she was covered in sweat, her hair was singed, and she had sand in places she didn't think she'd ever get out. She had dodged countless cannonballs and her legs were starting to cramp with exhaustion.

She crawled over a large rock pile and saw a crumpled body on the ground. And … no sign of any little creatures. Where the hell had they gone?

She raced over to the slumped form and felt for a pulse. Strong and steady. The bruise on the side of his face, and a large rock the same size as it, told her all she needed to know about what had taken place. He'd actually tried to take on the thing with a rock. She really wished he'd paid attention to her breakfast speech about the fact it had a forcefield, though.

She shifted him into the recovery position, wishing she could drag him somewhere cool.

Suddenly she heard excited chatter of little voices and snapped her head back to the trebuchet.

About a dozen marsupials had burrowed underneath the forcefield's skirt and had popped up directly under the sand beneath the struts. Emma blinked. They were now efficiently digging deep holes underneath one side of the trebuchet.

Even as she watched and the sand was displaced under its massive wooden feet on the left it began to start to lean. The device's aim was also starting to go wild as it was no longer on flat ground.

She heard a fair bit of good natured ribbing from Nikolai and his cousins as they worked and she felt a welling of warmth and gratitude for her small friends. It didn't take long before all the sand under one side of the device had been dug out and it suddenly leaned drunkenly.

With an almighty groan it simply wobbled too far to the side and began to topple down the ravine. The animals immediately jumped into the holes they'd dug as it fell, passing overhead.

The almighty crash as it hit the bottom might have been loud but not nearly as satisfying as the small exuberant cheers that went up once the marsupials stuck their heads back up through the holes.

They raced over to Emma who was incredulous.

"You did it!" she said, stunned.

"Of course, Miss Knight. We said we would," Nikolai looked at her proudly.

"Yes you did," she grinned. "Thank you very much."

There was a groan and Emma realised her unconscious friend was beginning to come to.

"Hey there, sleepyhead," she muttered, fanning her hand in front of his face to give him some sort of breeze.

His eyes fluttered open. Suddenly they flew wide and he looked around. He frowned.

"Looking for the trebuchet?" Emma grinned. "It's down there." She pointed to the ravine below.

Grumpy stared into the abyss at the tumble of wood and blinked. "Thank God," he rasped out.

"Do I want to know what on earth you were doing? I mean, hell, Michael I might have suspected for this stunt, but _you_?"

Nikolai's cousins had now discovered something more fun than having a White Knight to play with. Several were leaping up and tugging at Grumpy's beard, exclaiming "Oooh."

"Can we keep him?" the smallest creature asked Nikolai hopefully. He, in turn, looked up at Emma questioningly for an answer.

"What the hell?" Grumpy grumbled, sitting up, dislodging his admirers. "I'm for display purposes only! No one's keeping me."

He stood shakily, Emma helping him to his feet. "Sorry sister," he muttered sliding his eyes across to hers apologetically. "I just kept thinking about what Michael said. No one had actually seen it. I thought if I could just sneak up and get a look at it, maybe even disarm it or something, then he – and well _everyone_ – could calm down and we could then take the castle on our own terms.

He sighed. "But, hell, the thing has one crapload of bite to it," he rubbed his bruise.

"I am guessing you were asleep when I told everyone about its all-powerful dangerous forcefield skirt?" Emma cocked an eyebrow.

"Oh right - is _that_ what you were on about?" he asked. He shrugged. "Tent acoustics aint too hot at the back. I thought you were talking about your mayor again."

He gave her a sly grin. "You're not seriously gonna deny now that you're not 100% gone on her."

"Let's get back to the others," Emma said pursing her lips and pointedly ignoring the question. "And this time, no more heroics. Leave it to the experts."

"Low blow, sister," he snorted with a grimace. "Guess I deserved that."

She tucked her arm over his back and helped him down the ravine. Now all they had to do was take down one powerful witch who was now without her death star, plus her fiancé and his thousand-man army. Simple, really.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

Regina rushed down to the bowels of the palace looking for Rosemary and Cook. The kitchens were empty.

"Already got them out," Clarice said easing herself into view, making the brunette jump.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," Regina growled. "Where will they go?"

"Best you don't know that for now," the redhead said. "Just in case your mother comes looking for you and she gets … too persuasive?"

A chill skittered down Regina's spine and she knew Clarice had seen her fear. She threw her walls back up instantly and glanced away, giving herself a moment.

"I won't let her," she said thickly, looking at the far wall. "Rosemary's like family to me now."

"I believe you," Clarice said thoughtfully. "You know, you're not the person a lot of people in this palace thought you were when you arrived."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Regina snapped.

"Well one of the people I know quite well is Florence."

Regina looked at her blankly.

"Cora's lady in waiting? Whose room you stole on the first day you were here?"

The brunette shook her head. "I never even met the woman. And you know Cora assigned the rooms."

"Of course she did. Making a point to you, I'm sure. But Florence wasn't too pleased with you, anyway."

Regina's eyes narrowed. _What, she was supposed to care about the feelings of displaced servants now, when she hadn't even lifted a finger against them?_

"The point is," Clarice continued, "When I came to warn her to leave just now, she asked who it was she had to thank for saving her life. I told her it was you."

Regina crossed her arms. "I do hope there's a point to this because, seriously, I have more important things to be doing."

Clarice reached into her pocket and pulled out a small worn leather pouch. Regina's eyes lit up as she snatched it in disbelief. Shaky fingers opened it and pictures of Henry fell out into her hands.

"How?!" she croaked, eyes filling with tears. She didn't even care anymore that the other woman was watching her as the water slid down her cheeks. Her fingers sifted through the cherished pictures. They were all there.

"Cora ordered her to destroy them," Clarice shrugged. "Florence couldn't bring herself to do that. But she also didn't like or trust you enough to give them back. And there was also the not-insignificant issue of her life being at risk if your mother found them again after she was supposed to have destroyed them. So she just hid them. And when I told her you were the one, she gave them to me to pass along."

Regina wiped her eyes and lifted her chin as she shoved the photos into the pouch and slid it into her pocket.

"I have no words for this," she said, wishing she didn't sound so shaky, "or for what it means."

"I know," Clarice said with an uncomfortable shrug. "Look, don't bother thanking the messenger. Now we have work. You should know the trebuchet has been activated. Cora's up on the balcony hurling cannonballs around the ravine so I don't know how safe your friends are."

Regina paled.

"Although from the glimpse I got, your group is pretty agile. So we can either get you to safety, or you can go do a bitch smackdown with your mother right now."

The brunette paused. "I-I don't have the magical power to beat her," she admitted. "She is stronger than me."

Clarice cocked her head. "Seems to me, though, firing off magical cannonballs would wear someone out pretty fast though? Weaken them?"

Regina's mouth fell open. She hadn't thought of that. She felt supremely annoyed at herself for missing the obvious.

The redhead eyed her knowingly. "Would I be right in guessing that mother of yours spent many years telling you all the ways you weren't as good as her and your powers wouldn't work against her? So you wouldn't think you could beat her."

Regina cocked her head. "Perhaps," she growled, a little disconcerted at how close to the truth she had come.

"So your mission seems obvious," Clarice said, "Wait her out and then mess her up. OK, Your Majesty?"

She stopped for a moment and then said: "But, uh, be safe. We'd like someone halfway decent to rule when the dust all settles. May as well be you." She gave a cheeky grin to take the sting of impudence out.

"Watch it," Regina growled, but there was no menace in her tone. "Go - look after the others. I'll tend to Mother. It's time she and I did something we should have done years ago."

"I'd love to see that," Clarice said with a grin.

"No, dear, I don't think you would." Regina's eyes grew cold and her face clouded over. "There is no easy way to kill one's own parent, regardless of their crimes."

She felt the pain in her chest and the memories of her beloved father. The regrets. She looked up to see Clarice's understanding eyes. "Go. Now. While you still can."

She watched as the colourful woman strode away and Regina eased herself down at the kitchen table. It was so familiar in here. She could still smell Cook's awful coffee brew. And the sweetness of her famous stuffed figs.

Regina had been coming here for weeks, getting herself ready, plotting and planning. All for _this_ moment – the kill-or-be-killed showdown with her abusive mother. _Her last blood family member._

On paper the odds would favour Cora, the most powerful witch in this realm. Regina ran her fingers across the rough table's surface and thought about that.

_A little cockroach_. It was what her mother had called her all those weeks ago. The day she had realised which side Regina was really on.

But Cora had forgotten one thing about cockroaches: Even in an apocalypse - they always survive.

Regina stood slowly and looked around the kitchen regretfully. She had actually enjoyed coming here.

Those days were gone now. It was time.


	12. Chapter 12

**A LEDGER SQUARED IN BLOOD**  
**By Scribes and Scrolls**

**A/N: Warnings: There is somewhat detailed reference to child abuse. We're deep in Cora head-messing territory, so you have been warned.**

Chapter 12: A Ledger Squared in Blood (aka: Bitchhasgottadie)

Regina stilled herself and listened. Right outside her bedroom's glass doors she could hear her mother's handiwork as fireballs rained on the valley below. The smell in the air, of potent powerful magic, filled her nostrils and she had to force herself not to think about the dire consequences. She had to rid her mind of the thought Emma was under there.

She owed a debt, and she intended to repay it. None of them, Emma nor her family, would ever be harmed by her or her family again. She would see to it. The ledger would be squared - in blood if it had to be.

She paused. _Who was she kidding?_ It _would _be squared in blood. How else could it end? It was inevitable.

Regina felt the sickness in her stomach. The knowledge of what would come. Would it be a spell, she wondered, that would rob the woman who gave her life of her last breath? Would there be a physical struggle, and Cora would claw and fight and hiss and bite before finally, futilely, succumbing to the hands at her throat?

Perhaps Regina would simply fail and it would be her own broken body that Emma would find, shortly before Cora stole her life, too. She shivered.

She opened her wardrobe and let her fingers glide through her clothing. She had everything from humble peasantwear to hard-core dominatrix-meets-goddess garb. _If she was to die, today, how would she like to be remembered_, she wondered, fingertips drifting across the cotton and leather.

Or maybe a different question: _If she was to finally stand up to her mother, to stop her cruelty once and for all, how would she like to be dressed for that encounter?_

Her hands fell on a simple pair of cotton breeches and a vest, cross-stitched. A strikingly similar outfit to the one Emma had picked out for her on their first day together at the cottage. She'd had been so surprised by the choice - it had been functional yet oh-so seductive.

She smiled. She would face her mother wearing an outfit Cora would utterly abhor, something that screamed soft-butch fuck-me-girlfriend leatherwear. And with every subtle shift of the material across her breasts and thighs, it would remind her of Emma.

She quickly dressed herself and tightened the leather strips across the vest. A memory floated past her of the way Emma had raked approving eyes across her chest, subconsciously licking her lips.

_Oh yes, Regina had liked this outfit a great deal ever since._

Now. Footwear. 

Her eyes dropped to the bottom of the wardrobe. She blinked. Oh the irony, given who she was about to face.

_Daddy's shoes. ___

Her father may have failed her on many levels - his cowardice in the face of her mother's power being just the start of it. But he never, ever, stopped telling her how much he loved her.

Her hand moved along and dropped to comfortable calf-high leather boots. _Practical_. _And a little kick-ass_. She smiled. Sitting down, she slid them onto her feet.

When she finished, she rose and looked herself over. She felt strong. Loved. Now she was ready.

An aggrieved shriek sounded from outside and Regina leapt up and edged over to the glass doors and peered out, craning her neck hard to the right. No more cannonballs could be heard but the shock on Cora's face told her the impossible had just occurred.

Regina's mouth quirked. Emma - and she didn't know how, but she sensed her hand in this somewhere - had actually helped bring down an impenetrable super-powerful trebuchet with the magic world's highest-level protection spells on it.

_Of course she did. _

The brunette's chest swelled with pride. The more outraged Cora looked, fists tightening on the balcony rail, the more supremely pleased Regina felt.

Cora was now glaring furiously into the ravine.

"GUARDS!" she screamed. "GUARDS!"

Regina tilted her head listening for the telltale rattle and thumping of Cora's well-armed personal security detail heading up the stairs.

_Silence_.

Huh.

Cora was enraged now. "FLORENCE!" she roared.

Regina smirked as she knew the lady-in-waiting was long gone. In fact, did Cora even have anyone left in her castle to do her bidding? Regina knew only too well from personal experience that demanding loyalty through fear had a definite downside when the wind turned against you.

"FLORENCE!"

Regina briefly wondered where they had all gone to hide before Cora yelled one more word that made her blood go cold.

"WOLF!"

_Hell_. That would be one servant who would never flee. And his power was frightening, from every quivering muscle in his grey haunches, to his wide strong muzzle.

A sound of heavy fleshy thuds could be heard and, sure enough, the beast appeared through Cora's bedroom doors and padded out onto the balcony.

"Wolf, you will find King George, tell him my castle will soon be under attack from Charming's army. Inform him _they _were behind all the Midas lies. Tell him I am invoking our treaty and I need his men here NOW!"

The wolf dipped its head and growled "Majesty." Then it thudded away.

Regina exhaled. She did not have much time. She assumed George would have to mount some form of defense - after all the marriage might be off, but they had signed an alliance together.

And if the king mobilised his men, Storybrooke's pitiful resources would be completely outmatched. She had seen his soldiers training - they were efficient, deadly and well-honed, not to be taken lightly. They would make short work of Snow and James's meagre force, which she assumed would be on its way shortly now the trebuchet had fallen.

Regina thought quickly. She really was left with only one option. She had to take down Cora right now - then George would have no reason to stay and fight for a dead woman. Especially if he discovered the daughter he'd once been so afraid of was now in charge. She knew she could pull off a few dark glowers and nasty eye flashes to make him think 'old Regina' was back, ready to crush a realm or two.

She considered what would be happening in the courtyard outside. It would still take a little time for George to get his troops ready to march on the ravine. And a little longer for him to map out where the swelter pools were with someone from the palace so his troops didn't march to their scalding deaths.

She watched her mother's back, resplendent in an apricot silk dress, yet radiating with fury, still glaring at the ravine. Waiting for her wolf to return no doubt. And waiting for George's men to spill out on to the rocky landscape below.

_Time to move._ Regina opened the door, unable to resist an almost predatory cat-like saunter as she reveled in how it felt to be in this outfit. She felt strangely powerful.

Her mother vaguely registered her presence but was more focused on her precious lost toy.

"How the hell did they do that!" Cora snarled, snapping her head to the right as if expecting the demon vulture perched further along the railing to explain it to her.

Scapulus, eyes still shut and basking in the morning sun, ignored her entirely.

Regina went to the balcony rail, a few metres away from her mother, and leaned nonchalantly. She stared into the distance. She could see three specks of people who were facing in the direction of the trebuchet. A fourth shape in the distance suddenly emerged. The hair was blonde - _Emma! She knew she was behind its destruction somehow!_ - and she was helping a shorter, fifth figure down the embankment to the others.

She smiled widely. _Of course_ Emma would casually cripple her mother's precious war machine in under an hour.

"What the hell are you grinning at! That was our first and last major line of defense!"

Cora had finally noticed her. Regina cocked her head.

"Forgive me, Mother, if I don't greet the destruction of the _thing _which destroyed my cottage - and everything in it - with any sadness." She injected a little more savage sorrow into the line than she actually felt.

Cora snorted disdainfully. And suddenly her eye caught Regina's bad-ass butchy-butch vest outfit.

"What on _earth _are you wearing?"

Regina turned and straightened, sliding her hands sensually to her hips, puffing out her chest a little which expanded against the cross-hatched vest. For some reason it felt wicked to tease her mother, knowing there would be no tomorrows for her to take out on her.

"Just something I found in my closet," she said. "Emma loved me in this." __

Well, she couldn't resist.

"It's revolting. Like your dead lover's taste. Get changed. Then burn it."

"No." Regina turned back to the vista and leaned once more on the rail, dismissing her mother casually.

"NO?!" Cora's eyebrows shot up, and she regarded her daughter for a moment, as if trying to understand what was different about her.

"We have more important things to discuss." Regina's voice was low, confident.

Cora's outrage ebbed, definitely sensing change. Her voice turned to curiousity. "Such as?"

"Let's start with grandmother was a brothel madam?" Regina asked placidly. .

"You heard _that_? Was your slippery little ear plastered to that door, daughter?" Cora snapped.

Regina shrugged. "I hear a lot of things. For instance, your tawdry proposition to Midas."

"LIES!" Cora hissed.

"Oh I know," Regina said confidently. "And then there were your interesting bedroom habits..."

Cora scowled and opened her mouth.

"Don't bother calling those lies, too, because we both know they're not," Regina waved her hand carelessly.

Cora bit back a response and began to watch her daughter closely. The silence was so loud, Regina could swear she could hear her mother's heart beat. But that would mean she had one.

"What are you saying to me, daughter?" the older woman asked slowly, her voice getting chilly.

"Just that I hear a lot of things, Mother. Such as I was fascinated to learn exactly who set you up to break your engagement. And how they knew all your dirty little secrets and lies."

That got Cora's undivided attention. In two short strides she was inside her daughter's personal space.

"Who?!" she hissed. "Who did this to me? I will _crush _them. WHO!"

"Not yet, Mother," Regina said softly and took a step back.

Predictably a cold bony hand was up under her neck and pressing painfully.

"Tell me now, daughter."

Regina simply stared down her mother for a moment, ignoring the building pressure. For the first time in her life, trapped in this vulnerable position, she did not feel afraid. She waited, watching. Her lack of tension became obvious to the woman with a deathgrip on her. Cora's eyes blinked in startled wonder.

"I will not tell you anything unless it's on my terms," Regina ground out.

They stared at each other a few more beats. Regina now felt light-headed. Her face was increasingly redder. But she waited.

And then all pressure was gone.

"Well, well, look who finally grew a pair," Cora scorned. "So name them. What are your terms?"

"You just truthfully answer a few questions of mine and I will tell you who poisoned your union with George today. It's a small price."

Her mother gaped at her. "Questions? What _is _this, Regina? We don't have time for silly games."

Regina turned away. She was tired of seeing that particular expression of disdain on her mother's face. She may as well not see it for any longer than she had to. _The mountains really did look beautiful_, she mused. She could feel her mother's impatience but let her stew for a moment more.

"It's up to you," Regina finally said. "If you like I could just leave now. Or you could kill me where I stand for defying you. Either way you'll never learn what really happened. And we both know that will eat you up inside. You'll always wonder who the clever little mole was."

Cora's throat made a strange noise - a cross between profound annoyance and reluctant agreement. Regina gave a tight smile and took that as agreement.

"So, we begin: Mother, have you ever loved anyone?"

The older woman's face twisted in derision. "THESE are your questions? Love-sick sentimental nonsense? What the hell are you playing at?"

"Wrong answer," Regina replied placidly. "Let's try again. Mother, have you ever..."

"I heard you the first time, you insufferable child. _Why _do you want to know? On a little fishing exercise are we?" She smiled cruelly, sliding eyes across her daughter's form. "Want to know whether Mommy loved her little girl?" she taunted.

_There was that_, Regina admitted sadly to herself. _But it was more than that. _She wanted to know whether her mother was even human. It was something she'd always wanted to know, and now she finally would. It's not like she had any more chances.

"What do you care? Now do you need me to repeat the question?"

Cora huffed. She looked down at her bejewelled fingers then back to her daughter. "Once," she answered waspishly. "I loved once. My mother. Until I was seven and she was shamed and killed for certain _unsavoury choices _... by a respected member of society - who was never brought to justice. In fact the people cheered her death. And then it was spelled out to me in abundantly clear terms that I would not express love for her any longer if I didn't wish to follow the same fate. I soon learned. _Satisfied_?" she snarled.

Regina examined her mother. The downward pull of her mouth. The outrage, even now. She could well imagine a young Cora incensed that her beloved mother was murdered and then forced into condemning her just to survive. _Social-status-building for protection began right then_. She wondered if that was the day her heart died.

"No one else? Daddy or ..." She couldn't say the word. _Of course Mother didn't love her._

Cora's head snapped up and gave her a knowing look. "No," she confirmed with a slow cold smile, drawing it out to be crueler. "No one else."

Regina bit down hard on the inside of her mouth. _Suspecting it and knowing it were very different things._ She was surprised to find it did hurt. Cora seemed to be enjoying her reaction a little too much. Regina moved on.

"Was Daddy my real father?"

Cora humphed. "I was not like my mother if that's what you're implying. And I was damned if I'd let you be anything like her, either, although you always were wilful. But yes, your father _was _Henry Mills."

"Question three..."

"How many more of these ridiculous questions am I going to be asked? Can't we do this another time?"

Regina eyed her coldly. "We will not have another time, Mother." She tilted her head towards the ravine. "One or both of us will likely be dead soon."

Cora's eyes followed the brunette's and took in the sight of a distant army slowly making its way up the ravine. The older woman bit back a gasp, fighting to assume a mask of indifference. "Your Storybrooke minions, I presume?" she suggested.

"Not mine anymore," Regina said with a small shrug. "They weren't too happy about the curse. They will be just as happy to kick around my corpse as yours. Maybe more so."

There was a heavy padding noise and they both turned to see the wolf had returned. A shadow had followed but whoever it was hung back in the recesses of Cora's bedroom. Regina narrowed her eyes, trying to see their identity. Then her attention was torn when Cora demanded of her wolf: "Well? Where are George's men? I don't see them in the ravine yet."

"They are not coming, Majesty."

"WHAT?! We have an alliance! He can't just tear it up on a whim. What did he say? Tell me EXACTLY."

"Majesty," the wolf said slowly, dipping its head, "King George said 'Screw you'. And then he withdrew his troops, saying you were getting the only thing betrayal deserves. They're all gone now. Midas left as well."

Cora's howl was furious. Regina felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. _Well, this was an unexpected advantage. Hell hath no fury like a king scorned, it seemed. _The thought briefly occurred to her that George may have really loved her mother. _Or he may just have really loved his ego_.

"We will need to get the palace guards in position then," Cora barked. "There aren't many but maybe with the palace staff behind them we..."

"Majesty," the wolf interrupted, "The palace staff have all fled, as well. And many of the guards went with them."

There was a silence and Cora simply stared at the animal opposite her as if willing him to implode.

She turned back to her daughter. "We are still two strong witches," she said harshly. "Together we can make them pay for attacking the House of Mills. Perhaps you're wrong when you say one or both of us will die here this day."

"I'm not wrong," Regina said softly.

Cora's breath caught as she looked at the brunette, her eyes seeming to pick out the strangeness in her daughter once more.

"Well thank God you're not in charge of morale or everyone would be suicidal," Cora snapped. "We must make preparations!" Distracted, she turned to leave.

Regina replied: "As you wish. But if you go now, you will never get your answer."

Cora froze and turned. The unfinished business returned to the front of her mind. Regina saw the frustration in the way her coiffed head whipped around to glare at her.

"I have never understood you, daughter," she snapped. "Never. You always disappointed me at every turn. And now when our lives are on the line, you want to do this _odd _parody of mother-daughter bonding."

"If we don't do this now we never will. And I have never understood you either, mother," Regina replied neutrally. "Your hatred for me was not pleasant."

Cora pursed her lips in a half-smirk. "I wasn't _trying _to make it pleasant, dear."

"Well then - last question," Regina said locking onto her mother's clear eyes, willing herself not to flinch as she asked. "All those times when you hurt me, whipped me, beat me, and said you were doing it for my own good, did you really believe that?"

Cora almost cackled. "And _that's_ what you most want to know when our hour draws near? That?"

"Yes," Regina said softly. "It is."

Cora folded her arms across her chest and stared down at her. "The answer is both. It was for your own good, so you would not grow up a spoiled brat under your father's treacly ministrations, and it was so I could punish you for the way he adored you and no other."

"You did not even love him, why did you care what he felt for me?"

"Not the point! It was a matter of loyalty. And he only gave it to you completely. So yes, I very much enjoyed our little _sessions_. Now, your turn. Tell me!"

Regina glanced away, gazing at the army edging closer, wondering where Emma was. She could not pick the blonde's hair out from the rest of the group.

"WELL?"

"Mother," Regina said stepping back, "You always did underestimate me."

"What?"

"You thought I could not master spells as well as you," she continued. "Couldn't memorise the nuances of old pronunciations in incantations..."

"You are making _no _sense."

"You also thought me a fool to be in love. Love was a weakness, you called it?"

Cora stared at her in confusion.

"Love is what drives us," Regina stated. "Remembering the smile and the first words of my son, having the memories of Daddy's hugs..."

"Are you trying to nauseate me?"

"Having Emma in my arms last night, trembling against my neck and lips, loving her for hours..."

Cora's entire face changed to shock.

"Oh, didn't you know? Turns out she was alive, after all." Regina said with mock casualness. "Also turns out I know the spell for impersonation. And the location of George's fake birthright documents. And the way to manipulate that conservative old fool Midas. Although to be fair it was George himself who shared your dirty bedroom secret when he thought I was you and tried to fuck me, Cora style, up against a wall..."

"It was YOU?!" Cora's eyes flew wide open. It was the most unguarded and astonished Regina had ever seen her. She filed away the expression to savour later.

"It was me," Regina said flatly. "You never should push people to the edge, Mother. You never should use their love against them. And you definitely never should threaten or kill the people they love. It only ends ... exactly as this will."

"You're here to kill me?!" Cora murmured finally understanding but still incredulous. "You?"

"Yes." Regina confirmed, eyes hardening.

"Well it is fitting, you are the one who killed your beloved father."

_That old grenade._ She would not be drawn this time.

"Yes," Regina said again, looking her mother directly in the eye. "And I took no pleasure in it. It may surprise you to know that I will have no pleasure in killing you, either."

Cora laughed. "As if _you _could." Her arm rose and a fireball appeared.

"We will see," Regina noted. "And remember, some free advice, you probably shouldn't underestimate me again."

A fireball rocketed towards Regina's head in reply.

She dodged it easily. "Fireballs mother? So predictable. You always were. It makes it so much easier to defeat you."

She raised an energy shield and added: "But by all means, continue. Let's see how strong you think you are."

Cora howled and began to lash the brunette's body with a shower of fiery balls. The shield held and the fireballs ricocheted off harmlessly.

Her mother pointed at the heavens, muttering and tiny razor sharp black arrowheads began to fly, circling behind Regina. She recognised them. Movement tracers. They were looking for anything in their path that moved and then would burrow into it, breaking down into an acidic burning fluid. _ Nasty_.

Regina stood stock still and muttered an incantation, trying not to even move her lips much. A wave of beautiful blue hearts spread out before her, and swirled around her body.

"Hearts?" Cora's eyebrows rose. "Are they going to pretty us to death?"

Before she'd finished the sentence, Cora's arrow heads suddenly began shooting off in different directions, aiming for the sea of blue, not Regina, and the magical warring creations finally disappeared in a cloud over the balcony.

"They are also dual-spectral passive counter measures. Although, yes, they are pretty. Thank you for noticing. I do take pride in my work." Regina smiled pleasantly.

Cora frowned as if wondering how her insult could possibly have been perceived as a compliment.

The older woman dropped to one knee and then flung out her arm. A targeted arc of lava spewed forth and Regina immediately called up a mirror spell. It bounced the molten floe back at her mother so hard she skidded across the decking and against the railing, a black scorch mark down her apricot dress. Cora spat out ash and glared straight up at the demon vulture perched above her, looking down with curiosity.

"Don't say anything," she muttered to it and then rose to her full height. She turned to Regina. "I see you have been learning a few new skills. But you never did have a counter to my multi-dimensional blast."

"No mother," Regina hissed. "Not that..."

Cora laughed mockingly and called up the elements which swirled around them both, the air finally concentrating around Regina and suddenly she was being pelted in every foreseeable direction by impossibly hard and fast microblasts of water. Regina raised her shield and waited, all the while begging her mother to stop. It was one of her mother's favourite spells. And it was true there was no counter measure to dissipate it. Not that it mattered. Regina had been counting on her to pull this out of her arsenal.

Her mother's arm was now quivering with the effort needed to maintain the vicious cloudburst, but Regina needed to tire her out completely. She whimpered pathetically for her to stop, that it was hurting, which predictably, only spurred her on.

Even as she watched, with Regina's own shield struggling to maintain integrity against the onslaught, she noticed the power of her mother's blast was finally weakening. Between the trebuchet and the draining blast spell, Regina had expected nothing less. First the weakening was just a little, then considerably more.

"Please Mother, no..." she whimpered.

Suddenly Cora narrowed her eyes and stopped abruptly.

"I know what you're doing," she said with a look of complete dissatisfaction. She seemed vastly irritated that her daughter had just taken her in.

"Do you?" Regina smirked, all begging instantly gone from her tone. "Well that would be a first."

She dispelled the shield and threw her arm straight up, lifting her mother effortlessly into the air.

"Got any fight left in you?" she asked curiously. "You should probably stop me now, because we still have a few mother-daughter issues to sort out before I kill you."

Cora struggled violently but failed to make any inroads in the invisible bonds. She began to curse Regina angrily.

The brunette rolled her eyes. "Please, Mother, as if I haven't heard it all before. And just to speed things along, I'll cut to the chase: You are the _worst _mother."

"How dare you! I did nothing but make sure you wanted for nothing!"

"And the discipline? Mustn't forget all those lovely punishments," Regina told the furious woman twisting futilely above her.

"You should be _thanking _me for making sure you didn't turn out spoiled."

"So you have no regrets about what you did to me?"

"Only that I didn't stab myself in the womb when I was carrying you, you ungrateful little..."

Regina waved her other arm and the top half of Cora's dress was ripped from her body, pooling uselessly at her waist. Pale skin was laid bare, and goosebumps pimpled along her cold flesh.

"How does this feel? A taste of your own medicine?" Regina asked, observing her mother's face, taking in the look of discomfort. "Shall I whip you, too? Hmm? After all apparently one must give thanks when treated in such a helpful manner."

Her lips curled into a dangerous smile. Cora didn't speak, but stared at her daughter with an unexpected expression. Regina recognised it in surprise. It was gone in an instant but she definitely saw it. _Fear_. Fear she was about to have done to her what Cora did to Regina for years.

_Oh, she definitely liked that expression._

She lifted her arm. "How many times did you do this to me?" she asked conversationally.

"Well why don't we start at the very beginning. I was... six, yes?" She slammed her arm forward and Cora's back tore open in a whip mark, blood seeping out. "My infraction, if I recall, was crying in front of an important guest because you had thrown away my beloved toy bunny and I had just found out. You said I had embarrassed you in public. You said I deserved to be punished."

She pulled her arm back again. "Now shall we talk about my eighth birthday? Remember that?" The lash sounded and Cora bit back a curse. "Any comments on what you did to me that day? Do you remember I couldn't sit for a week. Or lie down. Or walk. Or stand. I could only do one thing, and that was kneel. _Kneel_ before you in penitence at your great and awful power over a small terrified child. And do you remember what I had done that was so horrible?"

Cora shook her head. Regina couldn't tell if she didn't remember or didn't want to.

"Held hands with a friend at school - a boy who was upset because his mother was sick. All I did was HOLD HIS HAND. But you didn't like that he was attached to me and from the 'wrong' part of the village, did you Mother?

"Or was it something else? Was it because an hour before you saw me when I hugged Daddy tight and told him how much I loved him?

"Which was it? Being too friendly with a boy or being Daddy's little girl?"

Cora scowled and shook her head.

"That's right, the answer is irrelevant, you bitch! They were both absurd reasons to hurt a child. I was only EIGHT!"

She pulled her arm back again. "Shall we get to the pubescent years? The borderline sexual abuse, wrapped up as 'teachable moments'? That hideous cruel thing you used to do to me?"

Regina leaned up on her toes and hissed into her mother's ear as Cora tried to wrench her head away. "Oh yes, Mother, you know exactly what I'm talking about. Did you enjoy doing that? Where no one could see? And then telling me you had to make me ugly so the boys wouldn't want me."

Cora muttered: "I was protecting you from them."

Regina snorted. "Of course you were.

"Well even though we've only barely covered the humiliation years, let's skip ahead to the murderous years. The odd disappearances of anyone who got a little too close. Was that protection, too? Mother?"

Cora spat out: "They would have lead you astray."

"Really? My English tutor who I adored? She was leading me astray? And the riding instructor who was almost 70 years old and wouldn't hurt a fly but thought I was 'special'? He was leading me astray too?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"LIAR!" Regina slapped her mother hard. "Next you'll tell me I just imagined you crushing Daniel's heart in front of my eyes."

"I found a _king _for you! And all you wanted was that, that... ridiculous stable boy."

"I didn't _want _a king! And it was never your decision! What is _wrong _with you?"

Regina realised her frustration had leaked out. She forced herself to breathe more steadily. Cora saw the weakness though and her lips bared as she verbally pounced.

"All I ever wanted, you ungrateful wretch, was that my family should not be tossed in the gutter the way I was. You never understood what my life was like. And you never appreciated all that I did for you."

"What you DID for me? You tortured me and killed anyone who loved me! You are SICK!"

"That is IT!" Cora roared. "Let me down now."

"Why? Do you feel three lashes and a slap makes up for a lifetime of misery? You feel that ledger is now nicely squared and balanced. We are all even?"

"I think, daughter, that you are not going to kill me - at best you just want to play with me a little until that precious army below us catches up and they can attack me for you. Let's face it, dear, your heart isn't in it or you would have done it already. So we may as well end the charade now."

"I will kill you." Regina declared, a little unsettled to discover she felt doubt when she said it. _Was that why she had been delaying the end of this conversation? _She realised she had no need to rehash these particular painful wounds, the abuse. The responses and rationalisations ... it was nothing her mother hadn't said before. Even hanging her in the air, hurting her ...

Regina realised she hadn't gotten the slightest satisfaction out of it. All she was doing really was just ... _stalling_. Oh hell.

"You won't kill me," Cora sneered knowingly. "We both know you are not the same woman who killed your father. That Regina was thoroughly evil but by God she had spirit. Even George noticed you're _nothing _now. The trashy blonde you love so much has turned you into a docile pet."

"I will kill you." Regina repeated, dredging up menace, but even less certain now than before. She tried to picture doing the deed and felt even sicker. _What the hell was happening to her?_

"Not only won't you, but you _can't_, dear," Cora smiled sweetly then, all trace of fear erased and suddenly Regina realised her mother had been playing her for a fool. She had even used her own tactics against her. Let her talk and talk while her strength gradually rebuilt, at least enough to do a few small spells.

The realisation hit her at the same moment Cora's fingers twitched twice and she muttered an incantation and crashed to the ground.

The older woman laughed as she pivoted neatly and put up her own magical shield, preventing Regina's next spell from hitting her and declared: "I told you love was a weakness. It has dulled your fighting instincts. You should have immediately known my next move and killed me at your first chance. But no my dear, you just can't do it. You have been _neutered_."

She flicked her hand and Regina went sprawling, never even seeing what hit her. Another spell cracked the air around her and she felt as though every bone in her body had been shattered.

Regina cried out in agonising pain. Cora stalked over to her and viciously kicked her in the ribs.

"Your problem, my dear, is lack of follow-through," she sneered. She kicked her again, causing Regina to gasp. "If you say you're going to do a thing, like kill your own mother, you have to _believe _you will."

"She might not be able to do it," said a new female voice from behind them, "But I sure as shit will."

Regina smiled, despite the agony, at the most glorious sound in the world, as she heard Emma's mocking tones from behind them both.

Cora turned sharply and eyed the blonde emerging from near Regina's bedroom, holding a large sword. It was aimed at her head. "Go ahead," Emma smirked, "Make my day."

Cora looked at her perplexed. "What does that even mean?" she asked in confusion.

Emma's mouth dropped open. "Uh, you know Dirty Harry? Do ya feel lucky, punk?"

Cora just looked at her, mystified, as though she had three heads.

"This world _completely _sucks," Emma muttered and she wound back the sword to attack, only for Cora to freeze it instantly in an icy residue.

"OW," Emma said, staring up at her arm now also encased in ice. "Shit that's cold."

Cora ignored her and glared at her daughter. "Was that some sort of a crack at me? _Dirty _Harry?" she hissed. "Just how many people did you tell about me?"

Emma's eyebrows rose and Regina wished she could laugh. It just hurt too much. She settled for performing a small spell to help repair her wounds. It would take a little while to fully kick in, but for now it would get her moving about a little.

"Whoa, if the shoe fits lady," Emma retorted.

Regina lifted an arm and snapped it Emma's direction, a shot of green smoke spiralling out. The ice on the blonde's sword melted instantly.

"Hey thanks," she said and gave her lover an impossibly adoring grin.

"I should have killed you when I had the chance," Cora snarled, appalled at the sight of the sappy look.

"My thoughts exactly," Emma countered. She lowered her voice conspiratorially: "I gotta say though, I'm not digging your new fashion look. Very unbecoming for a lady. What is it - hippie harpy chic?"

Cora glanced down in reflex at her naked torso, an arm instinctively coming up to cover her breasts and Emma seized on her lapse to lunge, cracking her nose and then jaw with an elbow and fist combo. A wet crunching noise sounded and a spray of blood went everywhere. Cora went down howling and hissing in agony.

Emma dropped to her knees and sat across her hips and lifted the sword, preparing to deal the fatal blow.

"NO!" Regina screamed, summoning all her strength and pushing aside the pain to shove her off her mother. The sword clattered harmlessly away and Emma crashed haplessly to the floor.

"What the hell, Regina? I had her!" she snapped and jumped back up, feeling about for the sword with one hand, and pushing away her lover's scrabbling hands with the other.

They tussled for a moment as the brunette hissed, "I can't let you do it Emma, please, stop - killing someone will change you for life. Do you really want to be like _us_?"

Emma finally got enough purchase and rolled over, grabbing the sword. But that gave Regina the chance to take over her position on Cora's hips, a crackling spell hissing and sparking from her fingertips, eyes blackening as she muttered. Her face was completely cold, hard and emotionless.

"No," the blonde shouted this time, crashing her to one side, disrupting the dark magic. "Don't! Not again! It ... please don't go _there_. It scares me..." she blurted.

Regina's eyes widened in shock at the admission. "It scares you? Or do_ I _scare you?"

Emma looked away. She shook her head, unwilling to answer.

Cora cackled beneath them both. "Lover's quarrel?" she said, gasping, still too weak to move. But not too weak to mock.

Emma and Regina instantly both lunged towards her at the same time.

"ENOUGH!" came an angry bellow.

Everyone froze. All eyes swiveled to the wolf they had forgotten had been crouching there, just off to one side. Watching everything.

"Oh quite right," Cora laughed. "Well isn't this lovely. I have allies after all. Wolf!" she bellowed, eyes turning into dark chips of coal. She pointed at the two women above her. "Take out the trash!"

Regina and Emma both paused, looking at the enormous beast in trepidation. Dark red eyes met theirs ominously. But then it blinked and looked down at the woman bleeding on the floor.

"Majesty, I do not answer to you on matters of life and death. You are not my master."

Cora swore._ Actually swore._ Regina realised it was the first time she'd ever heard any obscenity drop from the controlled woman's lips.

"Fine," she scowled. "Fetch your master."

The wolf merely lifted its head and howled once.

The noise was so loud it reverberated throughout the castle and into the ravine below. It was a chilling primal sound and Regina felt a shudder go up her spine. She glanced across at Emma who still refused to meet her eye.

The approaching army heard a terrifying howl go up across the lands.

Snow and James exchanged looks. "I don't like this one bit," Snow muttered as they gingerly made their way around the swelter pools, clutching Emma's map tightly.

Granny strode forward. "It's a Grizzly Wolf, mark my words," she said with authority, shifting her crossbow on to one shoulder. "Impossibly rare. Highly territorial. Incredibly deadly."

Red ran up to them. "I have just been scouting the area ahead - both Midas's and George's armies have gone. All that's left is Cora's personal guard, and they don't seem too enthusiastic about staying at their posts, if you know what I mean."

"How many?"

"Forty at most."

Snow smiled. "Excellent news."

James nodded and turned and raised his voice to the army. "OK just like in the briefing. You know where to go and what to do. Point team, with us, we're going after Cora on the balcony now." It had been where the wolf's cry had come from afterall.

"Let's hope we're not too late," Red whispered. Her eyes flicked up. "I haven't heard anything from up there in a few minutes. No magic or threats or anything. I hope Emma is doing OK. And is, you know, kicking her skanky mother-in-law's butt as we speak."

Snow and James glanced up at the castle looming before them, also unable to see any movement at all.

"I did give her my sword," James half whispered. "That has to help, right?"

Snow dropped her hand to his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "She is very good with it, Regina trained her for many hours every day."

James nodded and turned to the mass of people behind him.

"EVERYONE MOVE IT!" he bellowed, and flicked a worried glace at his wife. "We'll get there in time," he told her.

The army began to surge forward.

A shadow made its way forward from the main bedroom.

Cora beamed. "Huntsman, order your wolf to attack this disloyal pair."

"I am afraid I can't do that your majesty," the man said, leaning against the door frame, sliding hands into pockets.

Emma and Regina both gaped. Then the blonde grinned widely.

"Graham!" she exclaimed and promptly rushed over to him, enveloping him in a bear hug, dropping her sword with a clatter.

"Oh for God's sake," Cora spat.

"Just not your day, is it, Mother?" Regina snorted. But even so she examined the bearded man cautiously. They hadn't exactly parted on the best of terms, what with her semi-killing him and stashing his body out of the way in the Infinite Forest that night. She wondered how the man was at holding grudges.

"Your Majesty," he said addressing Cora, "The cycle must end here. I will not give this wolf orders to attack."

"How dare you!" she sputtered, "And after all I did for you. Why I found you wandering lost and confused and half dead, with only a wolf for company, and offered you shelter. This is how you repay me? You defy me?"

"I do," Graham said without a hint of remorse. "And I was actually neither lost nor hungry. I was merely presenting myself to you in a way that would not arouse your suspicion."

"You were a plant? A spy?! For who?"

"For me," a voice said.

Everyone shifted their attention back to the wolf.

"You humans are so arrogant," he said in a low growl. "So sure we will all abide by your rule and ways. But you are not the only ones who get a say in this. We have all conferred and voted on how we want the realm to be. And I speak for the other wolves, the deathclaws, the higher birds and the marsupials of the southern ravine: It ends now. Cora must be not be allowed to live. Her realm is evil. Unsustainable. Wicked. We all know what she did to the human female who angered her. Staking her with a pitchfork in wolf form so she howled for three days before dying."

The wolf shook his head in disgust.

"The vote was unanimous - we do not want to live under the reign of the Evil Two. It is time for that to be over. And it is especially time for _you _to be over." He growled again in distaste as he eyed Cora.

Cora, for her part, looked completely outraged. It was hard to know whether it was because a death sentence had been declared or that it was 'mere' animals pronouncing it on her.

Regina slowly raised her hand, nodding solemnly magic sizzling at her fingertips once more, while Emma reached for the sword where it lay at Graham's feet.

"It must be me," the brunette said firmly.  
"I will do it," the blonde said at the same time.

The wolf snapped at them. "I told you the animals had decided this. And neither of you," he looked at Emma and Regina, "will be allowed to kill her."

There was a stunned silence.

"Why not?" Emma asked finally breaking the strange pall. Even Cora leaned forward to hear, despite a pained grunt issuing from her lips.

"Because she," the wolf said snarling at Regina, "has a dark side we do not want back. And you are a saviour who must remain pure. Your soul would become twisted and tortured if you did this. Killing is not for you."

"Then who?" Regina asked, perplexed. "Not Graham?"

Cora had been slowly rising as the wolf spoke and now her fingers snapped suddenly, a ball of fire coursing spectacularly around her fingertips.

"None of you," she shouted and threw her arm up. "I will take you all with me!" The size of the ball was enormous and everyone went to ground. Emma instinctively flashed out the sword with one arm, and covered Regina's body with her other.

Everything slowed down. Regina saw out of the corner of her eye the gleaming sword impact the fireball and send it ricocheting harmlessly over the balcony.

And yet there came an anguished, blood-curdling scream. The brunette twisted her head to see Emma's face, petrified beyond all reason that she had been burned. But the blonde woman was turning in confusion in another direction. Towards...

_God! Mother_. She snapped her head up to look at her. There, sitting on her bare chest, covered in blood, sat the wolf. The beast tilted his head towards her and she could see his muzzle covered in a sticky redness.

_Oh..._

"Move," she demanded, "Get off her. I have to see..."

The wolf did as she bid and Regina gaped. Her mother's throat had been savagely ripped out. Cold dead eyes stared back at her, with a faint expression of surprise.

The woman was dead. Dead. She wasn't even a woman any more, but a body. Just a piece of flesh lying on the floor.

Regina swallowed and shook her head numbly at the sight. She could feel everyone's eyes on her but she couldn't see anything but the horrible sight before her. _She should feel joy_, she told herself.

"Mother!" she found herself crying out in a strange, twisted noise. It shocked her. She did not know how she felt. But seeing Cora like that... After a moment her mother's cruelty and humiliations flooded her senses. She turned away. It was so confusing. Emma's look of surprise at her response made her close her eyes.

No one could understand this. Her head was screaming.

Dimly she became aware of the wolf speaking to her, or was it to all of them?

"It was always going to be the animals who finished this," the wolf growled. The blood on his matted grey fur stood out starkly and he looked obscene, like a creature from a horror movie. She recoiled a little.

"It was the only way to end the humans' cycle of evil," the wolf continued darkly. "We will no longer allow the humans to keep replacing one evil with another. We are _sick of it_," he spat. His large head turned to the demon vulture which had been silently watching. "Scapulus? As agreed."

The mighty black bird gave two flaps until it was above Cora - Emma scrambled to get out of the way - and then lifted the body effortlessly with its talons.

Everyone stared as it flapped off into the sky - an awful sight in silhouette holding its twisted human cargo - then suddenly paused midflight and dove towards the earth like a missile. At the last moment he let go of the broken body and the ground opened up on impact. Cora sank quickly into a swelter pool, then disappeared from sight.

Scapulus cawed and arced towards the heavens.

Regina felt tears sliding down her face and great confusion. "I don't understand this," she said softly. "I hate her with everything in my being and yet..."

Graham turned and said softly: "It's possible to hate someone and still not want bad things to happen to them. But that's only possible if you have a heart."

Her eyes slid up to his. She saw his knowing look. _Who were they talking about now? Her or him? _He smiled at her confusion and explained.

"You are not the woman I knew in Storybrooke, Regina," he said kindly. "And I am not the man you knew either. We will talk properly another time. But I am glad you have found love. It has changed you very much for the better."

He gave her a crooked grin at her surprise and turned to leave.

"Wait," Emma cried out. "I need to talk to you." She glanced over her shoulder. "Alone."

Regina watched wordlessly as he inclined his head and they walked towards her bedroom. She felt sick in the stomach and hurt all over. Her eye fell to the wolf, with its bloodied face and brooding expression.

"And who did you work for, dear," she asked derisively, unable to contain all the pain inside. She felt desperate to lash out at someone.

"The animals of the Infinite Forest," he growled. "The one you know as Graham and I helped to get them organised. When I found him, after he awoke from ... death he called it ... I cared for him. He spoke often of his old world in a place many horizons away. He said he believed he had failed at bringing justice to his people even though it was his duty. He felt ashamed and relieved he had a second chance. He said it was time he worked for the greater good.

"So together we worked out the best way to do that. To reclaim the palace from the Evil Two. And then you arrived and made things go faster. But even if you hadn't been here, the ending would have been the same."

"With my mother in a swelter pit?" Regina scowled.

"Yes."

"And Graham - he never really worked for her?"

"No. He just let her think he did. She mainly wanted use of my services anyway. She used me as a spy."

"I recall," Regina hissed. "You were spying on us all. For her AND for Graham? That time you saw me crying in my bedroom ... and by the lake?"

"Yes," the wolf said. "And your tears saved your life. Some of the animals voted to kill you, too. To end the cycle forever. So your darkness could never again surface."

Regina bit her lip. Her fabled darkness. She shuddered. Truthfully it scared her, too. She wondered if that's what Emma wanted to talk to Graham about. Cling to his shoulder and sob about how afraid she was of her lover?

The wolf was staring at her. She stared right back.

"So what changed their mind?" she asked. "About killing me."

"I told my master about what I saw. The saltwater. And your plans to hurt your mother and her mate. And that was when he told me you were different now. The animals trusted that. They trust him.

"Still, it was a risk to let you live. It was why I took the kitchen girl to you at the cottage ruins that day, to save you before it was too late. It was a risk, you and your blackness. But my master said you were now worth saving."

"So all this was for nothing?" Regina laughed bleakly, rubbing her face viciously "My scheming? It was always going to end this way. I was little more than a pawn, too?"

"No," the wolf said. "If you had not done what you did, loved who you did, fought when you did, stayed your hand in attacking me when you did, you would be in that pool now, too."

Regina looked at him. She opened her mouth.

"Do not thank me," he stopped her. "It was the will of the animals. I am merely their eyes and ears and voice among humans."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Scapulus resettle on the balcony. _Of course - she hadn't dismissed him from his sentry duty._

An almighty crash sounded and a group of Storybrooke residents burst out onto the balcony.

"Where is _she_?" James snarled, striking an appropriately heroic pose.

Regina resisted the urge to roll her eyes and instead pointed over the balcony edge.

Snow's eyes widened. She ran to look. "I don't see a body."

"She's in a swelter pool," Regina said softly, tears pricking her eyes again. "Dead," she added redundantly. She then realised now she could finally identify her main emotion. They had all been so jumbled up. _Relief_. _She felt relief._ The weight crushing her that she'd felt her whole life was gone.

Cora Mills was no longer a threat. Not to her, not to Emma. Or anyone else.

She smiled suddenly. "Dead," she added again half to herself. She felt the protective darkness inside herself that she had felt for decades recede as if it were shrivelling in a corner. She realised she no longer had a need for it. She felt light. And free.

Her eyes sparkled and she found herself, ludicrously, smiling at Snow who looked back at her curiously.

Granny burst to the front of the group. "Are you seriously telling me we got all ready to fight and there's nothing to fight? I mean hell, half Cora's guards took one look at us and ran. And I only got that one bastard in the knee because he tripped over his own flaming armour!"

Regina bit back a smirk. She could relate. Unspent adrenalin was the weirdest sensation. She cleared her throat to get the attention of the wild-eyed woman. She then pointed to a scout bird that had been hovering to one side the moment the army burst through on to the balcony.

"You could always take out her spy. Cora did love those."

"Done," Granny declared and growled as she pivoted and shot off her crossbow in one seamless movement. It skewered the creature in the neck and then nailed it to the balcony rail with a satisfying thunk, right between the demon vulture's talons.

Scapulus squawked in surprise and looked down at it, then looked back up at Granny.

"Niiiice," the bird said in honest appreciation.

Regina almost laughed at Granny's expression and her old feathered ally's immediate respect for her. He was not easily impressed.

"Where's Emma?" Snow suddenly asked, turning to Regina fearfully.

The brunette pointed to the open doors at the end of the balcony.

"In my bedroom," she sighed.

Snow's eyes went wide and Regina could almost hear her internal squeamish squeak.

Red, however, lacked all restraint and exclaimed: "All right! Lusty Saviour gratitude party about to start!"

Regina sighed. "She's talking to Graham," she ground out.

"Graham?" Snow's whole expression changed to one of delight. She rushed down to the end of the balcony and then gave a pleased squeal at what she found and disappeared through the doors.

Regina could well picture the saccharine hugging and squeezing and loving from way over here.

Emma emerged a few minutes later, eyes red rimmed.

Regina took in the sight, an anxious feeling skittering along her spine. What had they discussed? He was probably filling Emma in on her dark past - flinging him into bed whenever she was in the mood, or wanted to punish him. _Would Emma even want to be in the same realm as her any more_, she wondered? Shame and loathing filled her. The sense of unworthiness grew in 'the pit of her guts.

She could feel Emma next to her now, hear her sniff. She felt a soft warm hand lift her chin and force her to look her into beautiful green eyes.

"Regina," she said softly.

The brunette looked at her fearfully. "Yes?" she said so quietly she barely heard the word herself.

Suddenly Emma flung her arms around her and whispered in her ear: "I love you."

And then Regina Coralina Mills, former Evil Queen, wicked kick-ass mayor and dispenser of the darkest of dark evil curses, to her complete horror, burst into tears.

To make matters worse, as she tried to stem the traitorous flow, she caught sight of Snow coming out of her bedroom and smiling indulgently at her.

She tried to think of something suitably intimidating to say or do but just then her chin trembled.

Snow beamed even wider and then dwarfed all earlier horrors by actually walking up to her and putting an arm around her shoulders, enveloping her and Emma in a warm embrace.

Then the young woman looked at her with soft eyes - the same big brown pools she remembered seeing decades ago when Snow was a little girl plopping herself beside her on the couch as she sewed. Snow leaned forward and whispered so very softly into Regina's ear just three small words.

They were words that made Regina's entire soul clench and her eyes flash wide with wonder.

"I've missed you."

**A/N: Well that was the smackdown. You know how I love reviews, but I have a small favour to ask this week: If reviewing, pretty please try to resist mentioning who/what killed Cora in your reviews. Would like to keep that space spoiler-free if possible. I know it's not exactly a Crying Game twist, but I think it might ruin things if someone read it there first. Thanks everyone. One more chapter to go: Party!**


	13. Chapter 13

**A LEDGER SQUARED IN BLOOD**

**By Scribes and Scrolls**

**Chapter 13: Sweet Endings**

Emma had seen some strange sights in her life. Boston was an entire world of strange at times. But the things she'd seen today ...

Snow had given Graham and the palace wolf joint custodial rights to oversee the castle being turned into an animal sanctuary. And the marsupials had wasted little time in making themselves at home. Nikolai and his cousins bouncing up and down on Cora's bed and nesting in her silk robes was one image she'd never erase. Meanwhile Nikolai's dignified old mother had settled herself regally into Cora's lingerie drawer.

The sanctuary came with three rules: no fighting, no biting, no disembowelling. Everyone had looked sideways at Scapulus when the last rule had been read out. He had looked vaguely disappointed and returned to sunbaking on the railing.

Emma slid her eyes over to Regina who was leaning over the balcony, her expression impassive.

"You OK?" she asked, going over to her. "I mean this used to be your palace, right?"

"To the victor goes the spoils," the brunette said tightly. "And the animals won the day. You yourself said they brought down the trebuchet. And they also ..."

She faded out and briefly shut her eyes. Emma slipped an arm around her waist. Regina's mother might have been an evil bitch, and they had both tried to kill her today - but she was still Regina's mother. _Her dead mother_. Regina glanced at the arm.

"Besides," the brunette added, "The memories I have of this place, apart from one night with you, are all tainted. I am surprised Graham wants any part of it, either."

"He's all about the 'greater good' now," Emma shrugged. "And I seriously don't think he's holding a grudge."

"Do you even know what I did to him?"

"He told me," Emma said softly. "But he also said it's in the past for him … and that you're as different as night and day from the woman he knew then."

There was a heavy silence. Finally the brunette said harshly: "How can you even stand to be with me?"

The blonde tightened her arm at her waist. "Regina, _you _are not your rap sheet. Hell, more than anyone, I get that concept. You sure as hell are not still _her_. I could not love someone evil. So what does that tell you? I don't know much but I do know it is possible to change your life, and become who you want to be, not what people tell you you are."

Regina frowned thoughtfully and turned back to the canyon again.

"I want to believe that," the brunette whispered. "And part of me is so filled with hope it scares me. The darkness inside - I just don't feel it there anymore. But what if it's not really gone? How can something that was in me for years just … go … when she died? What if it comes back? What if I…"

A morose expression crossed her face. "What if I hurt _you_ next time?"

"There are a lot of 'what ifs' in there, Regina, and I think you're focusing on all the worst-case scenarios instead of the most amazing thing."

Regina's head snapped to look at her. "Which is?"

"You don't feel the darkness inside you anymore. That's good, Regina, really good."

"Emma," Regina sighed darkly.

"Yes?"

"The things I've done..."

"I know."

"You don't," Regina muttered sadly. "Not all of it. I ... I've done terrible things."

Graham had told her about that, too. Everyone in Regina's palace had known the moment her father's body was laid out - a fist-sized hole in his chest where a heart should be.

Knowing what she had done to her father ... well it explained a hell of a lot about why the brunette had fought so hard to keep Emma from killing. Regina knew well what it did to a person.

"I already know," Emma confirmed softly and reached over and gave Regina's hand a squeeze. "I know about your father – the price you paid for the curse. Well the _old_ you, anyway."

"How can you be so sure she's gone when even I don't know?"

Emma smiled. "Because I have faith in you even if _you_ don't. If you can't trust yourself, at least trust my belief in you. And, just so you know, there's nothing you can do that will scare me off. Come to think of it, you of all people should know that by now."

She gave her a sideways grin and was repaid with a relieved breath. She saw gratitude in deep brown eyes.

Emma wondered how long she'd kept that secret locked inside, too afraid to even name it. Secrets like that owned a person, not the other way around.

"I still love you," Emma added, amused when Regina sent a vaguely incredulous look her way.

Out of the corner of her eye she could suddenly see the absurd sight of marsupials hanging off the door frames and curtains to Cora's bedroom. As she watched, one had discovered its little claws could slow its descent down Cora's curtain, albeit shredding it at the same time, giving a small "Wheee" of delight.

Emma's eyes widened. _Not exactly respectful of the dead_.

"Let's get out of here," she said hastily, and propelled Regina in the opposite direction.

They ducked into the brunette's bedroom and Regina went straight to her bedside drawer, pulling out the pouch of photos before turning and opening her wardrobe. After a moment she exhaled.

"Actually I don't want any of this," she finally said after staring at the row of clothes. "Too many memories. Let the animals nest in it or shred it for all I care."

She gave it one last look and Emma watched her close the heavy wooden doors with a final thud.

"It's not like I don't have everything I already need right here," she said softly, eyes catching Emma's.

The blonde grinned at the sentiment.

Regina blushed faintly. "Oh be quiet," she said in embarrassment, even though Emma hadn't said a word. Still, she didn't object when the blonde leaned in and dropped a loving kiss on her cheek, then dusted the spot with her fingers.

The brunette felt unaccountably pleased by the gesture and looked down at the pouch she was clutching to hide her sudden awkwardness. Her fingers skimmed through the photos, a rote habit to check they were all there. Regina paused on the oldest photo, of her holding a baby Henry, the look of hope so clear on her face.

She stared at her son's face for a long moment, then wordlessly slipped the photos back in the pouch and into her pocket.

"You'll see him again, Regina. Today in fact. Everyone wants to have a victory party at the encampment, and unite the Storybrooke families with the Resistance. Henry will be there."

Regina swallowed and shook her head. "That's … I'm looking forward to seeing him."

Emma slid her eye sideways, aware something was wrong.

Regina couldn't begin to explain how soul crushing all the developments of the day had been. A victory party – to celebrate her abusive mother's throat being ripped out. To add Henry into her emotional mix? Not to mention the residents of Storybrooke she had cursed, now all with their memories back, all staring at her? Hating her?

Regina paused. "It will be difficult," she finally admitted.

"Seeing Henry?"

"The party. The people."

Emma looked at her blankly.

"My dear, have you forgotten I will not be welcome? I did enact the curse. No happy endings, remember? I'm the Evil Queen."

"Oh, um, I have a little confession to make," Emma looked up at her from under her lashes. She dropped her voice very low. "I may have mentioned to, ah, a few people what Cora did to you. What she was like as a mother. People are more sympathetic now."

Regina's outraged look made Emma quail.

"Oh really?" she asked darkly.

"Regina, I needed people to believe that you're on our side."

The brunette crossed her arms in anger. "That was PRIVATE information," she scowled. "Do you mean to tell me everyone here now knows ... _everything_?"

Emma nodded.

Regina grunted softly in disgust and looked away. Emma could see a dark flush rising up her neck.

"I told you – they didn't believe you were fighting for us. Why would they? It was the only way to explain why you had as much reason as them - more actually – to want Cora gone. And my concern for your personal safety comes ahead of your pride," she added, pleading. "I didn't want them to try and pitchfork you on their way to your mother."

Regina's jaw worked. "How will I face them now?" she ground out.

"You are seriously more worried about them seeing you as a victim of abuse than their Evil Queen?"

"I am _no one's _victim."

"Facts - not to mention scars - might suggest otherwise." Her eyes flicked to Regina's upper lip.

The brunette huffed in annoyance. "You don't understand. At least when they hated me I wasn't..."

"Exposed?"

The brunette tilted her head and eyed Emma. "Weak."

"You aren't now. You didn't have any say in what happened to you. The fact you endured it all those years was a superhuman effort."

"Well it wasn't without consequences, now was it?" Regina's lips thinned into a line. "What she did to me, I took out on everyone else."

"Yes you did," Emma agreed quietly. "But the difference is now they know why you did what you did to them. You weren't just heartlessly getting your kicks. You were damaged, lashing out."

"I don't want their sympathy," Regina snapped, "all those pathetic looks and..."

"Well, if it helps, I am sure many of them will still resent the hell out of you for the curse."

Regina quirked her lips. "Now you're just trying to make me feel better."

Emma snorted, but her eyes contained desperate relief at the unexpected joke.

Regina saw it and her heart sank.

_Her anger would always be her undoing. Emma had just been trying to help her. _

Regina tried to gather her whirling thoughts and not dwell on the fact everyone in Storybrooke would view her as some pity case now. She felt sick at the idea of it.

She sighed. _Well, one thing at a time_.

She glanced around at the oppressive castle walls and small bedroom that had been hers for months. She remembered the mornings she spent crying. The hours spent burning with rage, as she single-mindedly plotted and schemed to…

"Come on," she said thickly, grabbing Emma by the arm. "I need to _not_ be here anymore."

The blonde nodded, only too happy to be pulled along. Together they made their way out of the building and into sunlight.

.

* * *

They walked swiftly back towards camp, Regina trying not to dwell on what lay ahead, or what lay behind; Emma doing her best to distract her, not even noticing she was waving her father's sword about as though it were her hand, to punctuate conversational points.

They had fallen silent, though, the moment they skirted a particular swelter pool they both recognised.

"Did you want to, you know, say a few words or anything?" Emma asked, indicating Cora's last resting place with the point of her sword.

"No," Regina said curtly. "All that needed to be said has been said."

"OK," Emma said. "If you change your mind, we can always come back another day."

"I will never come back here," the brunette said. "Let's keep going."

They trudged on and Emma began peppering the conversation with silly jokes about her Boston life. It used to cheer her up at the cottage. Regina knew what she was doing and tried to smile. She appreciated the effort. But her heart wasn't in it.

"Did you hear the start of Snow's speech," Emma tried again. "I think the bit about 'animals are people, too' kind of overdid it a little. The wolf actually rolled his eyes at her."

Regina snorted at that. "Well she always did veer towards the saccharine and condescending."

Emma swallowed her grin. "Are you ever going to get on with her?"

The brunette replied thoughtfully: "I truly don't know. And it's not just up to me, is it?"

The blonde flicked a glance at her as though she expected that but her shoulders drooped.

Regina noticed her disappointment. "But she is also your mother," she added. "I can only promise that for my part I will try. And I do have hope that things will change."

"That's all I ask." The blonde glanced back at the castle. "You do realise your demon vulture is still standing guard up there? Is that his new home or something?"

"Oh hell," Regina muttered, "I forgot to dismiss him. I will call him in later. He'll want to be at the celebrations. He always was a party animal."

"Was that a joke?" Emma asked in disbelief.

"No, dear," Regina said innocently. "I mean it. Scapulus is the life of any party. Just don't let him near the punch. Citrus juice makes him go berserk."

"Is that, um, wise – what with all the food and small children around?"

Regina smiled. "He does prefer his food raw and bloody, so no problem with that, and human children are of no interest to him. And if you want to keep your breakfast down it's best never to ask him why that is."

"Oh God," Emma whispered, supremely sorry she'd raised the topic.

The blonde slipped her arm around Regina's waist, happy to have her right at her side. They continued in companionable silence.

"What happens now?" Emma eventually asked. "I mean, will everyone just move over to the Enchanted Forest palace and live happily ever after? Will you go, too?"

"That's up to your parents," Regina said. "The council is going to meet before the party tonight to decide my fate."

Emma scowled. "I swear if they lay one hand on you, I'll show them some of those sword skills you taught me. Like the ogre's spike?" Emma jabbed out her sword in a vicious upward snap to demonstrate.

"My hero," Regina murmured. "Although you keep dropping your guard. We should work on that.

"Anyway, much as she might be tempted, I don't think even Snow will kill the one _you_ love. Not if she wants to have a lot of mother/daughter bonding any time soon. Right?"

Emma brightened. "Hey, you're right. So what _is_ the usual punishment for cursing an entire realm to a backwater town?"

Regina pursed her lips. "I doubt that one's on the books. We will have to wait and see."

"Well where you go, I go."

"That may not be possible, Emma," Regina said. "Dungeons do exist in this world."

Emma shivered. "Please tell me she wouldn't do that to you?"

"It may not be up to her. A lot of people suffered a lot because of me."

"And you saved all their asses today."

"Mmm. Although, they'd probably just see it as self-serving. Me attacking my abuser."

Emma bit her lip. "I am sorry, Regina, about telling them. If there had been another way…"

"I know," she sighed. "What's done is done."

They passed a copse of trees and Emma pointed: "We're here."

Before long they came to the encampment, but not before passing a row of tents that made the brunette stop dead.

"Are they what I think they are?" Regina asked, nose wrinkling in disgust. The canvas walls flapped against the timber frames and the smell… _well_…

" 'Fraid so. Downside of not living in modern society. No indoor plumbing, no cheeseburgers. And those two do kinda go together."

"That ablutions block is not fit for a diseased slug," Regina declared. "It _has _to go."

"Well no argument from me," Emma shrugged. "But what can we do?"

Regina eyed her archly, lifted one hand and began to mutter. She snapped her fingers, turning it instantly into a six-star, luxury, marble-lined spa and amenities facility fit for a world-class resort. She smiled at her handiwork. _That was more like it._

"Ohhh!" Emma gaped in wonder.

"HEY!" growled a voice from inside at the same time. A split second later it said: "Oh! _Heeyyyyyyyyyy_."

"Guess you should have checked it was empty first," Emma observed with a laugh.

Grumpy, who had stayed back at camp due to his concussion, emerged a few minutes later looking like all his Christmases had come at once. He walked straight up to Regina and said, gruffly: "For _that_, you're all right with me, sister."

He had then sidled off whistling and Regina tried to hide how inordinately pleased she was with his reaction. It was nothing compared to the flying hug and loud smack of lips she earned from her lover.

"Now I _really_ see the appeal of magic," Emma announced, then kissed her again for good measure. "You're like an all-powerful Oprah, but with really refined taste."

"Oprah?"

"Did you even own a TV?"

"Why would I want to do that? All they do is shorten young attention spans and misinform the masses."

"Fair point. Although Oprah did have shizzle."

"Now I know you're just making up words. Do I even need to be in this conversation?"

"You _are_ grouchy. Not that you don't have a right to be," Emma added hastily at Regina's outraged glare. "Come on, let's go and test out your new spa bath. A soak will do us both good. How many jets did you give it?"

"Eighteen."

Emma stared.

"Oh, did you want more?" She lifted her arm.

Emma shook her head numbly. "Did I mention how much I love you?" she said, before hooking her arm in Regina's and pulling her inside the gleaming facility.

.

* * *

The celebration party at the encampment was in full swing - dancing and home-made spirits were flowing liberally. Everywhere was laughter and joy, a weight lifted as the entire Infinite Forest, including its animals, celebrated the death of a dictator. Parents were embracing the reunion with their children. And Storybrooke residents as a whole were welcoming Cora's castle staff into their fold, as Snow and James had offered them all homes and jobs at their palace in the Enchanted Forest.

Regina, freshly scrubbed and soaked, had suppressed a smirk when the rest of the war party had all finally trudged back into camp and realised it wasn't exactly theirs anymore.

Only Clarice would think to stash the fleeing palace staff at the encampment of the army attacking the castle. She recalled Granny's outrage at finding the strange new group baking fish over the fire while Rosemary's mother whipped up a post-war banquet and waited for Storybrooke's army to return.

Granny, still with her blood up, had eyed this kitchen interloper for a long moment with a trained, narrowed eye, before deciding she wouldn't mind sharing cooking duties with someone who seemed to have a clue about one end of meat mallet from another. And so a fast friendship had formed, as the two women rolled up their sleeves and compared spicy entrail stew recipes, as well as grumbling about disrespectful daughters and granddaughters.

Regina had found the whole scene itchingly domestic and uncomfortable as family members reunited and embraced and friendly introductions were made with palace staff. Everyone deliberately gave her a wide berth.

_And why wouldn't they?_

Then there had been a flash of brown hair and Henry appeared, rushing up to her for a quick hug before latching on to Emma and telling her how brave she was to rescue his mother.

Regina's hands fell to her side, still tingling from the brief feel of him, and then she stared indignantly, watching her son lavish all his attention on Emma.

_What was the use? She'd always be the 'bad' mother to him._

Emma slid her an apologetic look and knelt down to hear all their son's excited ramblings about his time apart from the blonde.

Regina found it easier to simply slip away and leave them to it. She found a fallen log at the far edge of the encampment. She sat and watched the party preparations appearing with great speed and then the revellers come out. Music went on - Red had apparently donated her iPod player, an array of tiny but powerful speakers and a supply of AA batteries that Emma had solemnly referred to as "exceedingly generous". Their eyes had locked meaningfully.

Regina felt like she was missing something there.

Food was being passed around - including Cook's fabulous figs. Regina's nose twitched, but she still couldn't bring herself to enter a celebration for this cause.

She had been watching Emma dancing and laughing with their son for some time, a lost look on her face, when Rosemary edged herself down beside her.

She was holding a plate of figs. "Mama and I thought you might be hungry all the way over here," she said sweetly. "And I know how much you like these."

Regina's fingers eagerly reached out before her head could even nod and she gave the girl a soft smile. "Thank you. Tell your mother I am grateful she thought of me."

"We're the ones who are grateful to you – if not for you we'd still be under Cora's rule – or George's and Cora's or… well, we're glad we're not. You are our saviour."

Regina cocked an eyebrow. "No one's ever called me that before," she said with a surprised grin.

"Well it's the truth. And I must say I don't think your Storybrooke people seem to fully appreciate you either," she declared, her brows knitting. "Some of them are being downright mean. I had to threaten one beastly man with my spatula if he didn't stop badmouthing you."

"Rosemary," Regina said with a tiny smile, "I _did_ curse them all."

"Yes, but they got to live with you! In your town! So how could it be all bad? I'd like that very much," she added dreamily. "Sorry, Your Highness, I know you're spoken for, but it's the truth."

"You don't have to call me Your Highness anymore. I am just Regina now."

"Alright," she said happily, "Regina." She pointed to Emma and Henry. "Your little boy looks so adorable with your sweetheart."

"Actually they are mother and son," Regina explained. "Biologically I mean. I am just the adoptive mother." Her lip curled as she said it, unable to keep the resentment from her tone.

"Whatever is wrong?" Rosemary asked, eyes flying to hers. "What's happened?"

Regina huffed, feeling petty, but unable to keep her annoyance inside. "I haven't seen him in months and he barely acknowledged me - he was too busy telling his other mother what a hero she was for saving me. It is clear I am not wanted or welcome."

Rosemary's blue eyes watched Henry for a moment and then her hand sought out Regina's.

"I don't think you're quite right, Your Maj… Regina," she said quietly, clutching her hand. "First, your little boy has barely taken his eyes off you the whole time you've been here. Look - even now he's checking where you are, just to see you're fine. My experience is that little boys don't want to admit to their parents when they've been worried. But he seems to me to be really glad to have you back."

Regina swivelled her head to the dance area where Emma and her son danced. His anxious eyes kept darting over to her and he actually twisted several times to keep her in his sight, when Emma would have whirled him in a different direction. She shot him a tentative smile and was rewarded when he grinned broadly and waved at her.

"See that," Rosemary beamed excitedly. "He just had first-move fear is all. Probably nervous you were unhappy with him or something when you barely spoke to him."

Regina glanced away, trying to surreptitiously wipe her eyes which seemed suddenly moist.

"And as for the people not wanting you – did you know all they talked about for the first hour that they were back was the luxury amenities building you gave them?"

The brunette waved her hand disdainfully. "I'm sure they'll see it as some bribe to win their hearts over or something. And it's not like they'll get much use out of it. It comes down when everyone leaves tomorrow."

"You must never underestimate such a gift, Regina," Rosemary said, boring soulful eyes into hers. "People not used to any luxury will be overwhelmed by such generosity. And if your own people can't see it that way, then I will make sure my people change _their_ minds. In fact, I shall make it my new mission. We really like you Regina, and it's time everyone else sees the person we do."

Regina felt overcome. "Thank you Rosemary."

She smiled sweetly. "By the way I also came over to offer my condolences. On the loss of your mother."

Regina felt a lump rise up in her throat.

"I know we all had a hand in her … passing, but it doesn't change the fact you lost your mother today. And I am sure that is hard for you."

"Rosemary," Regina began, stopping as she felt her voice break. "You are the first person to say that. Thank you."

The blonde woman frowned at that. "You really have some pitiful friends then, you know that?" she declared.

Regina laughed in spite of herself. "Truthfully, I don't actually have any friends apart from Emma. And you."

Rosemary folded her arms. "Definitely going to see about changing that then," she said.

"You know everyone expects me to be happy she's gone," Regina mused. "But I can't. I just feel sadness – for all of it. What she did, and how she died."

The blonde nodded. "I know. Well then, at least let me cheer you up. Come back to the party. I promise to give my very evilest of glares to anyone from Storybrooke who is mean to you."

She looked so earnest, an amused Regina didn't have the heart to point out Rosemary's evil eye was downright adorable and more likely to induce mass swooning.

"I don't think I'm in the party mood," the brunette replied, her eyes moving over the faces of the revellers. Her eye fell to a tall figure standing at the back, manning the music station.

Regina's face lit up. "Although there is someone I would like you to meet," she said and rose. "I know I can't thank you for your friendship when I needed you the most, but I can give you something I believe you'd like very much. Come with me."

The blonde and brunette made their way back to the party, Regina threading her way through the throng, pulling Rosemary behind her.

Regina found Red leaning against a table, fiddling with her iPod and speaker set, playing Fairytale-land's first DJ. Her too-tiny-to-be-legal faded red shorts showed off her long lean legs and milky white skin to generous effect.

Regina tapped her on the shoulder. The statuesque woman turned, a smile rising to her lips, eyes subconsciously moving from Regina's to Rosemary's big blue orbs and then down into that woman's extremely ample cleavage.

That was the other thing that was generous around here.

Red's eyes jumped back up to hers. "Regina," she said politely, "Need something? Wanna make a music request for the party? I have everything from Billy Joel to 50 Cent. Although I'm betting you're more a Melissa Etheridge kinda girl?" She snickered.

Regina stared at her. "Who?"

"Although given some of your former outfits, I'm thinking maybe Lady Gaga is more your speed?"

Regina shook her head in confusion. Rosemary looked between them both as though they were speaking a foreign language.

"Red," Regina said formally, "This is Rosemary – a friend. Rosemary, this is Red. _THE _Red."

Rosemary's enormous blue eyes grew wider and wider, and her mouth fell open. A curious expression crossed the tall woman's face until a small soft hand grabbed hers and the awed blonde said: "OhmyGodyou'rereallyrealandaliveandIsomu chloveyou..."

She had paused in horror and backtracked, her cheeks aflame: "I don't mean _I love you_, I mean I am impressed by you so much, I have heard so much about you ... about the wolf hunting, you're a legend and oh I am your biggest admirer!"

A delighted expression crossed Red's face, her eyes sliding back into that cleavage and up again as she responded "You don't say," before putting her iPod down and giving the girl her fullest attention.

Regina noted, just before she turned to leave them to it, that Red had not extracted her hand from Rosemary's. In fact, she had squeezed hers back.

She smiled, her first genuine smile in many hours. _This_ she felt good about. And when it came to Rosemary, it was the least she could do.

She caught Clarice's eye as she walked away, and realised the other woman had been watching the exchange with interest. The servant gave her an approving nod, and Regina inclined her head back. The brunette then watched, curiously, as the woman, all jangling bangles and garish, colourful overkill, headed over to a raucous group of men and asked one to dance. She craned her neck to make out who her choice was.

_Of course, the cynic picked the cynic._ She saw Grumpy and Clarice leap up and begin a surprisingly well-co-ordinated, highly enthusiastic mutation of some dance she felt she should know but couldn't place.

"Having fun?" a voice asked at her ear.

Regina almost jumped out of her skin. "Eugenia," she said curtly. "And before you ask: I do not have a favourite font, flower, seating arrangement or entrée choice."

"No need to be snippy," Granny said, folding her ample arms. "I just like to be prepared. My, my, aren't you the prickly one tonight? You evidently need more time with your fiancée-to-be."

"And you need more time with your ladle. I am sure there's something or someone else you could be stirring."

"Hmm. I came to ask you to call off your attack bird. He's giving me the creeps."

Regina spun around to look at the meals area, and sure enough Scapulus was perched nearby with a proprietary eye over where the catering staff were nervously laying out food. But his eye kept returning to Granny.

"He just likes you," Regina said, her lips thinning to crush the smile forming. "He doesn't make friends easily."

"Can't imagine why."

"Pfft, his talons are sharper than his bite."

"That's supposed to make me feel better?"

Regina shrugged. "He is what he is. Wait till the karaoke. Then you'll appreciate him."

"Unlikely," Granny said. "And if you keep this up I won't be as flexible on wedding dates. I may find my schedule closing up."

Regina sighed. "Why is it _so_ important to you that we get married?"

"It's not important to me at all," Granny said intently, "But it's very important _for_ _you_."

The pair locked eyes for a moment, and Regina felt the older woman was trying to impart something. But the moment was gone when Graham's shadow suddenly fell over them both.

"May I have this dance?" he asked with a roguish grin, eyes twinkling.

Regina swallowed, unsure how to let him down politely. After all she owed him a hell of a lot but Emma …

"Of course, dear!"

She blinked stupidly and realised he hadn't even been asking her. Her mouth fell open as Graham and Granny took to the floor, and began an amusingly dramatic version of a tango. They were good – and had clearly done this together before. All Granny needed was the rose between her teeth. As if reading her mind, the older woman snatched up a long salad fork from a table as she passed, and chomped on it fiercely. _Interesting look. _

"When did those two get so close," Emma asked curiously as she danced up to her, holding a giggling Henry watching Granny.

"Well he always did like her pie," Regina commented absently gazing at the tangoing duo. Emma eyed her sideways. "At the diner!" Regina corrected with a flush. "Her apple pie! You knew what I meant."

Emma arched an eyebrow. "Did I?" she teased. "And I see she has another admirer."

They both smirked at the look on Scapulus's face as his head bobbed up and down in time to the music, watching Granny keenly.

Even as they watched, Granny, clinging on to Graham, swirled by and she waggled her finger at the massive bird. "I'm watching you," she threatened.

Scapulus cawed back, in what seemed to pass as laughter.

Henry stopped dancing and dropped to the ground with exaggerated exhaustion. "You two take over," he declared. "And watch for Emma's left side, Mom – she's a stomper."

"Hey!" Emma protested.

"I just bet you are," Regina smirked, taking her in her arms.

She caught Emma eyeing up Scapulus curiously and commented: "He took a shine to Granny since she nailed that scout bird at fifty paces."

"I was _there_," Emma said, patting her on the chest. "And the best fun I ever had was finding those last two freaking scout birds on the way out of the palace and stomping their heads in. Fuck that felt good."

"Em-ma," Regina sighed. "Do you have to use that language? Henry is right over there..."

"And not listening to a word we're saying. In fact I'd say he has made a few new friends."

As they watched Henry performed a fairly serviceable handstand, swaying only a little, cheered on by a team of marsupials counting how long he was upside-down, and Nikolai, who also did his own wobbly version of a headstand beside him.

Henry came down first with a shaky tumble and they all cheered their marsupial victor. Henry grinned happily and declared: "Go again?" Without waiting for an answer he was wobbling back up on his hands.

Now all the marsupials were upside down with him, counting up the seconds by banging their tails.

"Are you sure _those _were the creatures who brought down Mother's highly advanced, cutting-edge, magically-protected trebuchet?" Regina said with a frown. "Because I'm just _not _seeing it."

Emma snickered. "Yep that was them. Although they did want to adopt Grumpy, too, so maybe they're, er, _special_?"

As if on cue, the gruff man shuffled past holding Clarice - they seemed to be on their fifth dance now - and Regina had never seen him look so happy. Even the eccentric woman in his arms seemed to have lost her watchful air and was quite enchanted.

_Huh. Takes all sorts._

Regina started to relax. _Maybe she could do this after all, maybe… _A bare second later she was sitting in the dirt, rubbing her arm. Michael, who had been dancing with his daughter, Ava, was glaring down at her and with a mock apology said, "Oh, Your Highness, _so sorry_, I didn't see you there."

"Hey!" Emma barked, putting out one hand to help Regina, while glaring at him. "You did that on purpose. That was uncalled for."

"Uncalled for?" he asked, his voice dropping to menacing. "Uncalled for like being cursed to forget your own kids for three decades. You know I found out they were eating out of garbage cans in Storybrooke? Homeless! Because of _her_."

Regina rose gingerly to her feet. "I'll just go," she muttered and turned.

"Oh that's right, just bolt. Coward. Won't even face us!"

"Daddy, stop," a young girl's voice said, tugging on his arm which had bunched into a fist by his side. "_Please_. We were OK, we're fine now. See? And Henry's our friend. Please don't hurt his mother. Please?"

Emma snaked an arm out to stop Regina striding off and for a moment there was a four-way standoff.

"Regina," a booming male's voice said jovially, "there you are. You can't leave before we have a dance."

She looked up into the concerned, intense features of James. Quickly, Emma gently pushed Regina into his arms, and she was whisked to another part of the dance area, away from Michael and his flashing eyes.

"Thanks," Regina muttered to him.

All around she could see the faces now – the ones she'd cursed, the ones who'd been without happiness. She could feel the resentment, the hurt, the anger. Not in every face, but enough. It stung. She actually realised for the first time she _did_ care. It mattered.

James pulled her closer and whispered: "I did not do this for you, Regina, I did it for my daughter, who I will not see hurt by association. And for that matter, I will not see hurt for any reason – if you get my drift."

Regina cocked an eyebrow. "James are you really giving me the 'Hurt my daughter and I'll hunt you down and skin you alive' speech?"

"I am, as a matter of fact," he said. "So do you abide by my terms?"

"I will not hurt her," she said with conviction, "I love her."

She felt the bear-like grip on her tighten. "I hope so, but I didn't want there to be any misunderstanding."

Regina nodded, and felt more cold eyes on her. How had she not noticed them before? She realised she'd been so happy for Rosemary she'd been oblivious as she made her way onto the dance area.

_It had been insane to think she could be among these people and not be loathed. _

"They hate me," she whispered and then was shocked she'd said it aloud.

"Some do, yes," he agreed. "Not all. By the way, we had our council meeting – to decide your fate."

"Oh?"

"Mmm. Granny, Red, Graham, Clarice I believe her name is, and her friend Rosemary all made compelling submissions for leniency on your behalf. There were others, like Grumpy, who argued you'd changed and didn't deserve to have the _entire_ book thrown at you."

James smiled at that but Regina looked at him impatiently. He hastened forward. "We're exiling you, Regina."

Regina's shoulders sank. "I thought you might." She was impressed her voice still sounded even.

"You won't be allowed into the Enchanted Forest. But the animals are fine with you staying here - you did, after all, fight on their side in this war. The deathclaws and the demon vulture were adamant you be allowed sanctuary here. The wolves and marsupials had no objection."

Regina nodded. But still - _no Emma, no Henry_. She felt her heart begin to shatter. She looked up into knowing eyes watching her closely. She couldn't even hate them for this. It was inevitable. _Hell, she was lucky to still be alive_. Emma's revelations about Cora's deeds probably had a hand in that, she decided. _How thoroughly pathetic her final years would be._

"It won't be forever," James clarified, as if reading her thoughts.

Regina's head lifted eagerly. "What?! How long? When will I be able to see them again? Emma and Henry?"

"Regina," he sighed, "We're not completely heartless. Everyone knows you love them, and we won't punish _them _for what you did, either. Just because you can't see them at the Enchanted Forest, doesn't mean they can't visit you here.

"But Henry won't be allowed to live here. That's part punishment and part necessity. He will need to be with the other children and go through schooling and training like all the others in the ways of Fairytale land. It's especially important since he will rule our land one day. Emma will want to stay with him there but, even so, both of them can visit you. He on weekends and by council approval for special occasions; she as often she likes."

"How long?" Regina swallowed, trying to keep the eagerness from her voice. "How long before we can be a family again?"

"_Again_?" James looked at her puzzled. "You have never been a family."

And that was the moment Regina realised that even in Storybrooke she'd seen her annoying nemesis as 'hers'. Part of her life, integral to her existence. She blinked in astonishment. _Just how long had she loved her?_

Her brain began to meander over all their shared moments in their old life together but was interrupted.

"One year - and then subject to review," James finally answered her question. "But I suspect by that time cooler heads would have prevailed and there would be no further objections. But, Regina, this isn't about what you have done lately to make amends. It's about healing the wounds of those still bleeding from the past. People like Michael who as you can see grieves every moment of every day for the time he lost with his kids. This is about justice being seen to be done."

_A year. It was more than generous. _She could scarcely believe James was apologising to her for even that much time in exile.

Regina slid her gaze up to James's eyes. She heard herself whisper hoarsely: "Thank you. And also for ... letting me see Emma."

The man's face shifted into amusement. "Please, as if I could ever keep her from you. She's apparently besotted with you," he said. "And, much as it was hard for me to accept at first, given what you did to me and my family, I can see you have done things the old Regina never would, things that tell me your words are sincere. And if nothing else, I trust my daughter's judgment."

Regina leaned forward. "It is generous. Especially given I kept you from _your_ love."

"If there's one thing I have learnt, Regina," he sighed heavily, "that bad consequences follow when true love is denied. And you more than anyone know that to be true."

Before Regina could respond, he straightened, and dropped his arms, stilling all movement.

"Alright, enjoy the party. Tomorrow we'll leave for the Enchanted Forest palace and you'll stay here. But, before I go, I think you might like this. I am sure you'll know what to do with it."

A jade pendant dropped into her hand and Regina examined it. On one side was a symbol of a claw, and the other a castle with a twisted spire. She knew immediately what the talisman would do and was warmed by the generosity of the present.

He moved away, finding his wife and enfolding her in his arms, leading her into a slow dance.

Regina glanced around. She could see Michael now in a corner, sitting next to his daughter who seemed to be earnestly trying to coax him out of his foul mood. She winced, knowing she was the cause.

She threaded her way back towards Emma who was sitting beside Henry and Nikolai seemingly deep in discussion.

She weaved around a couple dancing past merrily. Rosemary and Red. She could see the two women not only cheek to cheek but hip to sexy hip.

Rosemary's eye caught hers and she shyly mouthed "Thank you" to her. She smiled back as Red dipped the other woman daringly, earning a delighted "_Oh, Red_!"

She kept going until she finally reached Emma.

"It's time," she said leaning over, whispering in her ear.

"Time for what?"

"I want to show you something. We just have to put Henry to bed and then I'll take you there."

"Where?"

"You'll see."

* * *

.

"You had it rebuilt!" Emma exclaimed.

Regina beamed. She had suspected she would be exiled - Scapulus had dropped a hint just after the council meeting. She had wanted to be ready. So she had transported to the cottage's old site, vaporised the debris and planned out a new one. Improved. With room for more than one person.

"It's a little bigger and better than the old one," she said, delighted by the blonde's reaction. "Although it's still within walking distance to the healing spa. I am not giving that up. And we can expand it to make a bedroom for Henry, later, if that's acceptable."

She opened the front door and stepped back, waving the way ahead for her lover. Emma walked slowly in, admiring all the modern accessories - a state-of-the-art kitchen, with gleaming stainless-steel dishwasher, cold AND hot water, a low-slung white leather couch in front of the fire place. Her head turned - an _enormous _bed.

"I didn't want to improve on the original layout too much," Regina explained, as Emma's view switched between the kitchen and the bed and back again. "I thought you might still enjoy the view of watching me make coffee from bed with next to nothing on."

Emma's cheeks flushed red. "You KNEW! That I, um, ..."

"Of course I knew. I planned for you to find me like that," Regina grinned. "It turns out I rather liked your adoring attention even if I couldn't quite admit it to you at the time."

Emma was suddenly in her arms kissing her passionately and Regina felt a jolt of arousal flood her body.

"Is this like a getaway?" the blonde asked, dropping her lips to her neck. "You know, for some romantic times, when we want a break from the castle?"

Regina frowned and pulled Emma's arms from her neck. "James didn't tell you? I am to be exiled. For a year. You can stay over but Henry can't. But you can both come by whenever you want to say hello."

Emma's face went through myriad changes. "And no one told me? When did this happen!"

"They're all leaving tomorrow," Regina continued. "I'm staying. But there's this..."

She pulled out a jade token and held it out to Emma. "It's from your parents. The claw side, if you tap it three times takes you to the closest hatchlock in deathclaw country - in other words, here. It's the same hatch you came out of at Storybrooke.

"The castle side, if you tap it three times, it takes you to the closest hatchlock to the Enchanted Forest's palace – where your family will be. It means you and Henry won't need to be knowledgeable in spellcasting or to have to walk for hours to come and see me. Just _this_."

"This is supposed to make me feel better?" Emma sighed. "All this decision-making behind my back? Why would they do that?"

"I guess they felt no need to ask you – everyone knows what your views would be. And how you would react."

The blonde glared at the talisman as if it were personally responsible for Regina's exile.

"It's not that bad," Regina said. "Most people in exile never see their families again. By Fairytale land standards, the council was extremely forgiving. And gifting you that tells me they want us to know this isn't about breaking us up. That the punishment has nothing at all to do with you and me."

Emma held it in her hands and tears formed at her eyes as she stared at it. "It's more than that. You know what this means?"

"Lots of visits?" Regina said hopefully.

"Well that, too. It means my parents want us to be together."

"They care about your happiness," Regina stated simply. "And I suppose they have more reason than most to be protective of true love."

Emma smiled. "True love, huh?"

Regina gazed back at her. "Yes."

"I thought that's what this was but I didn't wanna be presumptuous," Emma grinned and leaned over, capturing the brunette's lips.

"Yep," she decided, "that's what it is. Soooo - how about we give the healing spa a whirl and then christen those sheets?" She waggled her eyebrows.

"That would be acceptable," Regina purred. "Oh, and at the party I may have mentioned to your parents on the way out that you'll catch up with them in a day or so. That you have more pressing business to attend to with me, first."

Emma laughed. "Thought of everything, haven't you?"

"Not quite."

"Hmm?"

"I can't decide what we're going to do about the fact we both like to sleep on the left."

Emma chuckled. "It hardly matters - I don't think either of us will be getting much sleep any time soon."

.

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

Eugenia "Granny" Lucas made her way back from the mess area, pleased to have finally washed and sorted every last pot and pan, and put the bread up for tomorrow. She'd had plenty of offers to help but she'd shooed them all away. The truth was she found it soothing, a way to let her mind wander while her hands did the physical work.

She reviewed the night's events. It had been a delight seeing Graham again – they hadn't had so much fun together since their dance lessons back in Storybrooke years ago. It had been their little secret, a way to make slow nights pass in a livelier way, when he wasn't expected to patrol - or whatever the euphemism was he had for his late-night duties with the mayor that Granny wasn't supposed to know about.

But when they took to the floor under the encouraging eyes of their group's instructor, she felt young again.

No one had ever really understood why she had wept over his grave, and she remembered how Regina had eyed her strangely before she stalked away.

Her delight in finding him alive had been incredible. Granny's foot began to tap even as she thought about the fun she'd had dancing with him again tonight. She smiled to herself as she took a slow tour of the camp, its tents dark, although she could see one or two candles lit, here and there, giving ghostly lantern-like glows.

Her eyebrows raised at some sounds she knew not to be the nightlife. _Was that Grumpy's voice?_ She quirked her lips. _About time that grouchy old beggar found a way to be happy again_, she mused, wiping her still moist hands on her apron.

Another voice filled the air, from a different tent and it brought her up sharply. She sighed. She hadn't lived with her granddaughter all these years not to know her high notes when she was _pleased_ with her company.

She remembered who she was with tonight. A pleasant girl from the other palace_._ _Rose?_ _Rosemary_?

Cook had been very proud of her only daughter, and from what Granny had seen of her when she wasn't gleefully doing the two-step with Red, she had every reason to be.

She had no objections to the sweet girl with a pleasant disposition, and she was certainly a far cry better than some of the boorish oafs Red had brought home from time to time.

She made her way to the bathrooms and, just as she had earlier in the evening, found herself gaping at the sight of the magnificent marble spa. It had been quite the collection of spa partners who had squeezed in here at one point – stripped down to their unmentionables and singing raucously, thanks to plenty of libations. Grumpy and Clarice had been especially merry, albeit a little too familiar with each other for social company.

The only thing funnier than the sight of four wet marsupials riding the bubbling jets in the middle of the massive pool was discovering the creatures could form a natural barbershop quartet. The delightful group made everyone else stop their bawdy singing and listen in wonder.

That was until the deep baritone from outside started up.

Regina hadn't been kidding – Scapulus _was_ the life of the party when he got going.

_Which reminded her_. She opened the door and leaned on the frame, looking outside and called out. "I know you're there. I suppose you may as well come in and keep me company."

The black demon vulture sitting in the shadows cawed in delight and strutted inside the spa area with her.

"Just make sure you sing something other than that weird Celtic-punk fusion thing this time," Granny ordered, slipping off her clothes and stepping into the bubbling waters.

Scapulus sat by her side and tilted his head back and began to sing. It was an animal ballad, she knew that much. If she didn't think about it she wouldn't even notice the lyrics about dying creatures and bleached bones. The tune itself was actually beautiful.

Granny closed her eyes, relaxing.

She even pretended she couldn't hear one particular cry that seemed louder than all the rest that definitely did not come from the bird's talented throat.

"Oh my goodness, RED! Oh yes."

_Yes, she definitely hadn't heard that. _

Scapulus stopped singing and made a strange noise. Without opening her eyes she muttered: "I can tell you're laughing. Stop it."

Scapulus's head bobbed up and down and he cawed softly.

"I mean it. Where's your mute button anyway?"

Scapulus laughed again but resumed singing.

.

* * *

**MEANWHILE, IN A HEALING POOL FAR, FAR AWAY**

"Are you seriously expecting me to keep my hands to myself?" Emma pouted, "I mean this is like cruel and unusual punishment."

"I need to get clean," Regina said, eyes sparkling, "That party and all those people, it just wasn't sanitary."

Emma watched as the brunette seemed to take great delight in scrubbing every inch of her naked body in the spa, and flicking her with water every time she got too close.

"You're not OCD are you?" Emma asked, taking the opportunity to scrub her own body quickly and vigorously.

"Is cleanliness OCD now, dear?" Regina let a slow smirk curve her mouth. "Are you telling me you _like_ rolling around in dirt?"

"Alright, that's enough torture," Emma rolled her eyes. She stood to her full height and walked to the edge of the pool and then turned, gloriously naked, water sluicing off her curves. She put her hands on her hips, challenging Regina, who suddenly seemed to lose all interest in scrubbing herself raw.

Emma posed for a moment in the moonlight, well aware she had the brunette's complete attention. "Don't you think you're clean enough?" she asked, voice low and sexy, noting the darkness burning in Regina's eyes, the flash of white teeth as the other woman opened her mouth to suck in a breath.

Regina's nostrils flared. And suddenly she was striding towards her, eyes locked on her body as though it were some sort of delicious prey.

"That's more like it," Emma whispered softly, daring her onwards.

Regina had a feline quality to her that the blonde had long admired but this night, as her wet, toned, olive-skinned body emerged from the churning water, Emma detected an almost dangerous sexual energy radiating from her.

Regina stood well inside her personal space and Emma could feel her body's heat and the hitched breathing as both women stared at the other's body. Emma's eyes fell to the curve of the brunette's neck, the muscles at her shoulders, the supple power of her toned arms. The soft, perfect handfuls of breasts that now heaved in front of her, nipples hard, tight buds.

"No more teasing," Regina ordered in a dark voice, even though she had been the one doing it. Emma shuddered and gave one firm nod.

And suddenly they were pressed together, flesh on flesh. There was a mash of lips and tongues, and there was moaning but Emma, in her haze, couldn't be sure whose it was.

And all she could hear in her head was "_Dear god, take me_." It was a plea Regina seemed to hear because she found herself flat on her back, one leg dangling into the waters, the other bent on the pool's edge and the brunette spreading her even wider apart, brown eyes burning with desire.

She felt helpless, her nerve endings on fire, barely able to move she as stared at the woman who had now shifted between her legs and was pressing soft lips to her core, nibbling and sucking.

Regina dragged her tongue along the blonde's sensitive centre, suddenly slipping two fingers inside her. Emma realised she was crying out, moaning Regina's name, begging her not to move, not to stop, to take her and own her. _Oh god._

And then she was there, shuddering, but before even half her body's erotic waves had rolled over her, she felt herself pulled into the warm waters below. The spa's intoxicating effects were magnified thanks to her heightened senses and her eyes shot open as she felt the explosion of sensations flood her body.

Hands under the water spread her legs again and she felt herself entered again as she shook through her peak. Finally she couldn't take any more and slipped a stilling hand onto Regina's wrist.

The brunette gently slid her fingers out and held them up to the moonlight, never taking her eyes off Emma as she licked them clean.

"Delicious," she purred.

"That was… I have never felt anything like that before. Did you _know_ that the spa could do that?"

Regina nodded, smiling mysteriously.

"Then why did we never … before?"

"I didn't want to give the scout birds a show."

Emma gaped.

Regina slid closer and wrapped her slippery body around hers. "There are no scout birds anymore, thanks to your vicious size nine boots, my dear," she said and dropped her hand to Emma's.

The brunette pulled it between her own legs and rubbed it over herself, gasping at the friction their tangled fingers created.

"So I think you should put the spa to good use once more," she husked, "and make _me_ scream."

Emma did not need to be told twice and slid her fingers between the warm, soaked folds she felt just above her fingertips. Regina gripped her upper arms and instantly gasped out a strangled cry.

The blonde dropped her lips to her lover's neck and began to nibble her skin, biting gently, as she slipped her hand in and out between quivering thighs. She could see the other woman's arousal in her eyes; hear her breathing becoming deeper.

She lowered her mouth to a nipple and, as she did, allowed her thumb to dance up to Regina's clit.  
"Yessss," the brunette hissed, arching into her, "Oh yes, Emma."

She smiled, loving the sight of Regina coming undone in front of her - the vice-like grip the brunette had on her arms, and the way her thighs trembled around her hand.

Suddenly Regina's lips found hers and kissed her with a fierceness she had never felt before.

Their eyes locked for the briefest of moments before she felt the fluttering and the walls clenching around her fingers. She rubbed her with her thumb again and watched as Regina's dangerous glint shattered and was replaced with a mix of emotions – surprise, joy, love … and vulnerability.

Then the intense brown eyes slipped tightly shut.

Emma stared at her in amazement.

"You love me," she said in wonder, then felt foolish for saying it.

A slow smile curved Regina's lips and her eyes snapped back open. "And, of course, you're surprised."

Emma wrapped her in a wet hug, pulling her into the waters so only their heads were above the surface.

"Just getting used to the idea. Being loved is… it's …"

Emma felt lost for words. Regina leaned forward, tilted her head up and looked her in the eye.

"Yes, it is," she smiled at her inarticulateness. "But really, we should probably do this again, just to be sure."

Emma chuckled. "Very funny," she said, leaning in for another kiss. "Maybe you really are marriage material."

Regina sighed. "If you keep this up I'll start to think I'm happy. And all it took was being exiled after cursing an entire world."

"Universe works in funny ways," Emma said philosophically. "Couple of months ago I was running down a street in Storybrooke, waving a sword, with the most awful thoughts running through my head of what I wanted to do to you."

Regina looked at her with interest. "And now…"

"And now," Emma smiled, "I still have some fairly wicked thoughts about what I want to do to you." Her fingers dusted up Regina's chest. "In fact, truth be told, they're the same things I have always wanted to do, if only I hadn't been so oblivious."

Regina twitched her lips at that. "That reminds me…"

"Mmm?" Emma nuzzled her way up to Regina's ear and pulled her lobe into her mouth.

"That day you opened the door to me in your underwear?"

"Yup…"

"I kept trying to think of things to extend the conversation so I could look at you for longer."

Emma grinned in delight.

"OK," the blonde said, "The day at the mine, there was a moment when I wondered if you were going to kiss me. Then I was shocked to realise I wouldn't mind if you did."

Regina's eyebrows went up. "That was a life-or-death scenario, our son was in danger, yet your mind was on my lips?"

"_Please_," Emma sighed contentedly, "You were thinking about my lips, too."

They fell silent for a moment.

"The second day you were in town, when I got you out of jail…" Regina began.

"_You_ got me out of jail?"

"_Semantics_. Anyway, you were researching Henry's computer trail?"

"Mmm, told you I was good."

"Yes, but I'm better. I already knew what had happened. I just wanted to have an excuse to lean over you and be in your space a little longer. To watch you work. To watch _you_."

"We'd only just met!"

"Yes. I was drawn to you even then. Despite your dubious love of being behind bars."

"Ha, freaking, ha. Well remember that time when you got Mary Margaret arrested? - and that was just _charming_ by the way - I'd asked to see you outside? I could barely stand when you strutted down the hallway like that. Was that deliberate? Because seriously, that cocky-ass walk you have should be a registered weapon."

Regina gave a low chuckle. "Well I thought you might like the scenery," she admitted.

The brunette cleared her throat. "Speaking of 'charming' acts… That day you chainsawed my beloved tree which I had hand-grown from a sapling?"

"You are not seriously comparing your framing of my mother for murder to my hacking off a tree branch?"

"I was doing no such thing. But do try to focus," Regina rolled her eyes, and Emma almost laughed. _Honestly, her lover's dodgy past was the gift that kept on giving. They'd have a lot to talk about later._

"I remember you mentioned it before," Emma said thinking back, "You told me in the old cottage that you _might_ have wondered what I tasted like that day - but then you got all coy." Curiousity burned in her eyes. "So did you?"

"In the middle of being so enraged at you, all I could see was that _smug_ expression," Regina said, lips curling. "I wanted to kiss the look right off your face. And, yes – at that moment I really did wonder what you tasted like. And to be clear, I mean what _all of you_ tasted like."

Emma's eyes rolled back into her head and Regina pounced with a delighted, wicked laugh, nipping along her neck.

"I think it's time for less talking about it, more doing," the brunette husked and her hands began to wander lower.

"Definitely," Emma moaned. "All day, every day and forever."

THE END

* * *

**Author's note: Thanks for sticking with me. And welcome to the new ships – Red Rose, Clumpy and Gravy. I'll let you figure out who's who. **** LOL. Thanks to my long-suffering beta who informs me she is now ready for a padded cell. I'm taking a fanfic vacation for a while and reclaiming my weekends. All feedback greatly appreciated. **


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